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MULTIPLE 
PERSONALITY 

AN EXPERIMENTAL INVESTIGATION INTO 
THE NATURE OF HUMAN INDIVIDUALITY 

.- BY. 
BORIS SIDIS, M. A., Ph.D. (Harvard) 

AUTHOR OF THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SUGGESTION AND 
PSYCHOPATHOLOGICAL RESEARCHES 

AND 

SIMON P. GOODHART, Ph. B. (Yale), M. D. 




NEW YORK 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

1905 



t> 






X OCT 28 1904 
i 'Vtoyrforht ew> 



Copyright, 1904, bt 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 



Published November, 190b 



TO 
PROFESSOR WILLIAM JAMES 

OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY 

WHO HAS DRAWN MY ATTENTION TO THE VAST 
AND IMPORTANT DOMAIN OF ABNORMAL MENTAL 
LIFE, WHO HAS INSPIRED ME WITH LOVE FOR THE 
STUDY OF THE "VARIETIES*" OF HUMAN EXPERI- 
ENCES, WHO HAS GIVEN ME HIS SYMPATHY AND 
HEARTY SUPPORT IN MANY AN HOUR OF TRIAL, 
THIS WORK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 

BORIS SIDIS. 



PREFACE 



The case of double personality described in Part II 
is of great interest and is specially recommended to the 
reader's attention. This case has been investigated in 
the Pathological Institute of the New York State Hos- 
pitals. Sincere thanks are therefore due to Dr. Ira Van 
Gieson, the former Director of the Pathological Insti- 
tute, for his broad-mindedness and liberality in afford- 
ing facilities for carrying on the investigation of the 
Hanna case. 

The work of Parts I and III covers a period of eight 
years. Out of the material accumulated by Dr. Sidis and 
his collaborators, some experiments and observations of 
functional psychopathic cases have been utilized in the 
last part of this volume. Another portion of the work of 
Parts I and III has been accomplished in the Psycho- 
pathological Laboratory of the New York Infirmary for 
Women and Children, and sincere thanks are therefore 
due to the Trustees and especially to Dr. Alexander 
Lambert and Julia B. de Forest. 

Thanks are also due to Dr. Walter B. Cannon, As- 
sistant Professor in Physiology at Harvard Medical 
School, for reading the first three chapters of Part I, and 
especially to Dr. H. Linenthalf for his valuable assistance, 
given in the reading of the proofs of this volume. 

Boris Sidis, Brookline, Mass. 
S. P. Goodhart, New York City. 



CONTENTS 



PART I 
PERSONALITY 

BY BORIS SIDIS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Individuality 3 

II. Multiple Individuality and Neuron Organization . 8 

III. Types of Neuron Organization 12 

IV. The Law of Individuality and Evolution 22 
V. Evolutionary Stages of Psychic Elements ... 27 

/VI. The Attributes of Psychic Elements .... 34 

i/ VII. Representations and the Break-up of Personality . 38 

VIII. The Nature of Familiarity 45 

IX. Neuron Organization and Multiple Personality . . 52 

X. Plural Personality 58 



PART II 
DOUBLE PERSONALITY, OR THE HANNA CASE 

BY BORIS SIDTS AND S. P. GOODHART 

I. Aspects of the Hanna Case ...... 83 

II. The Birth of the New Personality .... 91 

III. Education and Growth of the New Personality . . 95 



x CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

IV. First Impressions 107 

V. First Impressions {Continued) 115 

VI. Biography 128 

\J VII. Revelations from Dream Life 135 

VIII. Upheavals of the Subconscious 142 

IX. Picture Dreams and Subconscious States . . . 146 

X. Resurrection of Outlived Personalities . . . 156 

XI. Awakening of Primary Personality and Double Con- 
sciousness 160 

XII. The Rise of Primary Personality 164 

XIII. The Reappearance of the Secondary Personality . 171 

XIV. The Arousal of the Subconscious . , . . . .174 
XV. Dual Life 183 

XVI. The Struggle and Union of Alternating Personalities . 189 

Autobiographical Sketch of Dual Life Experience . 202 



PART III 

CONSCIOUSNESS AND MULTIPLE 
PEESONALITY 

BY BORIS SIDIS 

I. The Moment Consciousness 229 

II. Mental Organization 237 

III. The Conscious and the Subconscious . . . . 240 

IV. Automatism 243 

V. The Psychic Minimum 246 

VI. The Fading Moments 249 

VII. The Brightened Moments 253 

VIII. Transmutations of Subconscious Messages . . . 257 

IX. The Process of Mental Resurrection .... 261 

X. The Reawakening 264 



CONTENTS xi 

CHAPTEB PAGE 

XI. The Threshold op Mental Life 269 

XII. The Threshold in Abnormal Mental Life . . . 279 

XIII. Memory Lapses and the Subconscious .... 304 

i/XIV. Hypnoidic States or Resurrected Lives . . . 309 

J XV. Hypnoid States or Underground Life . . . 327 

i/XVI. The Twilight of Consciousness, or Dammerzustande . 341 

XVII. Hysteria 347 

XVIII. Types of Dissociated Personalities .... 356 

XIX. A Single Appearance of a Secondary Personality . 364 

XX. The Reawakening of the Secondary Person . . 376 

XXI. Alternating Double Personality 383 

XXII. Manifold Personality 387 

XXIII. Manifold Personality {Continued) . . . . 420 

XXIV. Secondary Infant Personalities 435 

XXV. Multiple Personality and the Hypnoleptic State . 447 

INDEX . 457 



PART I 
PERSONALITY 



By BORIS SIDIS 



PART I 

PERSONALITY 

By Boris Sidis 



CHAPTER I 

INDIVIDUALITY 

The question " What is an individual? " seems to be 
the easiest thing to answer. It is enough to point to some 
individual object as an example. The matter appears to 
be so simple. A closer examination reveals some difficul- 
ties. Suppose the individual object pointed out is a book. 
Do we not find that the book is made up of "individual " 
leaves, the leaves of individual sentences, the sentences of 
words, and the words of ' ' individual ' ' letters ? Physically 
and chemically the book can be analyzed into masses of 
molecules, and the molecules in their turn can be further 
analyzed into infinity of " individual " atoms. The in- 
dividual book, therefore, is made up of masses of sub- 
ordinate " individuals." In what sense then is- the book 
an " individual '"? The leaves are connected, the chap- 
ters, the sentences, the words, and the letters are so inter- 
related that they form a whole, — a compound system of 
subordinate individual systems. The unity or individual- 
ity of the book is purely relative. The book as an indi- 
vidual object is a system of systems. 

If from objects we turn to organisms, we obtain the 
same result. If we ask what is an individual organism, 
we find on examination that the individual pointed out, 
apparently one and indivisible as a unit, can be resolved 
into systems of organs, the organs into tissues, and the 

3 



4 



MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 



tissues into individual cells. Modern biology goes even 
deeper and resolves the cell into complex structures 
and organizations, such as cytoplasm, cytolymph, cyto- 
reticulum, microsomes, plastids, centrosomes and astro- 
sphere, plasmosome or nucleolus, chromatin network, 
chromosomes, linin network, and so on. Recent research 
in biology makes more and more probable that the cells are 
built up of systems of simpler individuals. These individ- 
ual elementary organic units are formed into complex sys- 
tems giving rise to cells. The cells in their turn organized 



*?SM-— . 




Fig. 1. — Hydra fttsca, a fresh-water polyp. (^4), cut across at D ; B 
and C, the two pieces which have become independent individuals. (After 
Verworn.) 

into multiple systems form the unity of the individual 
organism. The individual, therefore, is never something 
simple and indivisible; it is only relatively an " individ- 
ual. ' ' In reality, the individual is an aggregate of systems 
of simpler individuals. 

The systemic structure of the organic individual is 
strikingly manifested in the lower animals. The Hydra 
fusca can be divided and subdivided, the portions becom- 
ing separate individuals leading an independent existence. 
(See Fig. 1.) 



INDIVIDUALITY 5 

Similarly the Eucorallium rub rum, the precious coral, is 
an individual consisting of elementary coral polyps, each 
one capable of living its own individual life. 

In the Microgromia socialis the cells are loosely con- 
nected, and each can lead its own independent individual 
life. (See Fig. 2.) 

In the Codonocladium umbellatum, a colonial, flagel- 
late protozoon, the same relation obtains ; the portions, 




Fig. 2. — Micogromia socialis. (After E. Hertwig.) 



when isolated, become independent individuals. (See 
Fig. 3.) 

The Eudorina elegans is an infusorian belonging to the 
Flagellata. (See Fig. 4.) The individual organism of the 
infusorian consists of many subordinate individuals ca- 
pable of an independent existence. 

The Siphonophore is an apparently differentiated indi- 
vidual with many organs having different functions, such 
as movement, nutrition, reproduction. Now these organs 
are really single individuals arising by budding from the 



MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 





Fig. 3. — Codonocladium 
umbellatum. (After R. Hertwig.) 



Fig. 4. — Eudorina elegans. 
(After Verworn.) 



main stem, and when separated from the stem can lead an 
independent existence. (See Fig. 5.) 

Even individual infusorian cells can be divided and 
subdivided, and the cut portions can in their turn become 




Fig. 5. — Siphonophore Colony. A, longitudinal section; B, ex- 
ternal view ; sb. the float ; sg, the swimming-bells, the nutritive, reproduc- 
tive, and other " persons " beneath. (After Hceckel.) 



INDIVIDUALITY 



independent beings with a life of their own. The Stentor 
Roeselii may be taken as an example. (See Fig. 6.) 

Unicellular organisms can be subdivided into many 
pieces, and provided some portion of the nucleus is pre- 
served in each piece, the fraction of the cell regenerates the 
individual and lives an independent active life characteris- 
tic of the parent cell. 

These facts, along with others drawn from the internal 
structure, from the process of karyokinesis or cell-reproduc- 





Fig. 6. — Stentor Roeselii. 

A, cut across at * ; B and C, two pieces which have become regenerated 

into complete Stentors. (After Verworn). 

tion, and from the various processes going on in the internal 
morphology and chemistry of the cell during the different 
stages of cell-reproduction, pointing to the constancy and 
individuality of the chromosomes and their constituent 
granules, — all these facts and many others go to show that 
even so apparently simple an individual as a cell is really a 
compound system of many subordinate systems of rela- 
tively simpler individuals. The individual is a composite, — "7 
a multiple individuality. 



CHAPTER II 

MULTIPLE INDIVIDUALITY AND NEURON ORGANIZATION 

The principle of multiple individuality underlies the 
organization of what may be regarded as the basis or coun- 
terpart of psychic life, — I mean the nervous system. The 
multiple systemic structure of neuron organization becomes 
more emphasized, more clearly denned as we ascend in the 
scale of evolution. The mode of neuron structure may be 
regarded as mirroring the mode of organization of psychic 
life. Although it may appear as a digression in a work on 
multiple personality to devote space to morphological 
structure of nerve elements, the reader is asked to bear in 
mind this important fact of intimate relationship of neuron 
and mental activity. One mirrors the other. The develop- 
ment of the various forms of neuron structure may be 
found to correspond or run parallel to the various modes 
of mental organization. It may, therefore, repay us to give 
a review of the modes and forms of neuron differentiation 
and neuron aggregation following the stages of organic 
evolution. 

In the very lowest forms of animal life there is no nerv- 
ous system. The neuron has not yet become differentiated, 
and the primitive cell possesses the fundamental charac- 
teristics which are afterward to develop in the highly differ- 
entiated functions of the neuron. In the monocellular or- 
ganism, such as the Amoeba, Paramecium, Gromia ovi- 
formis, Vorticella, and others, there is present a sensitivity 
to external stimulations. Monocellular organisms react to 
touch, pressure, pricking, temperature, light, and chemical 
irritations. In the very lowest forms, sensitivity to all kinds 



MULTIPLE INDIVIDUALITY 9 

of stimuli is diffused and belongs to the protoplasm of the 
body cell as a whole. The tendency, however, is that the 
principles of physiological division of labor should work 
even in the lowest of cells, and without giving rise to any 
specially formed organs, certain parts of the protoplasm 
should become more sensitive to certain stimuli than others. 
In micro-organisms, in infusoria, for example, the pseudo- 
podia or protoplasmic expansions manifest great sensitivity 
to touch, pricking, temperature, and chemical stimulations ; 
especially is this the case when the protoplasmic expansions 
become permanent organizations of the animalcule, as, for 
instance, in the ciliated infusoria in which the cilia show 
great sensitivity to touch, pressure, and other stimulations. 
The sensitivity shown by monocellular organisms to 
chemical stimuli may very well correspond to gusta- 
tory and olfactory sensations in higher forms, since these 
senses are of a chemical nature. In fact, we may say 
that such sensitivity is the germ out of which the senses 
of smell and taste are developed. Certain pigmented spots 
of the body of the monocellular organism may become more 
sensitive to light. Such conditions we find in the Glenodin- 
ium polyphemus, Panophrys fiavicans, Euglena viridis, 
and others. These pigmented spots scattered over the body 
of the monocellular animalcule may be the germs, or, 
truer to say, the forerunners of the delicate structure of 
the eye with its highly differentiated function of sight. 
Of course we must remember the fact that the different 
organs formed in the higher forms of animal life do not 
actually come directly as a further development out of 
the particular spots of the lower micro-organism, but they 
are probably analogous in function. The structure, of 
course, is fundamentally different in metazoa from that 
of the protozoa, but the germs of the different functions 
are already found in the monocellular organisms. In 
monocellular organisms the organs are but portions of the 
cellular protoplasm. Such primitive organs or organoids 



10 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

are to be found in the Amoeba proteus, Paramcecium cau- 
datum, Yorticella, and others. 

In multicellular organisms the organs subserving the 
highly developed functions are represented by systems of 
cells, and even by many aggregates of cell-systems, which 
go to form one functioning interconnected organic whole, 
possibly being a sort of syncytium, having cell-bridges 
and protoplasmic continuity. It is in the multicellular 
organisms that the nervous system first takes its origin. 
When organic development reaches a certain height, a 
group of cells becomes differentiated into a nerve ganglion, 
spreading out its protoplasmic processes like a network 
over the organism, and thus supplying with its ramifica- 
tions every portion of the body. As we ascend the animal 
series the ganglia become multiplied, groups of neurons 
increase, and their association and co-ordination increase 
in number and complexity. In the course of develop- 
ment the neurons, even as the cells of the body in gen- 
eral, become arranged into groups of higher and higher 
complexity. Groups are aggregated into systems, communi- 
ties, clusters, and constellations. This holds true of the 
structure of the higher animals as well as of the general 
evolutionary series of animal organizations. 

The nervous system appears at first in a disseminated 
inco-ordinated form, and becomes more co-ordinated as 
well as more complex with the ascent in the scale of 
evolution. In the lowest forms this co-ordination of gan- 
glia is merely a matter of repetition, the interrelation of 
the nerve-centres is at a minimum. What is present is sim- 
ply a repetition of many ganglia similar, if not identical, 
both as to structure and function. Co-ordination or con- 
centration is almost absent, so much so that each portion 
with its ganglion may be completely excised without in the 
least interfering with the function of the rest. Differentia- 
tion of structure and function of the various ganglia is at 
its minimum, and corresponding with this lack of differen- 



MULTIPLE INDIVIDUALITY 11 

tiation is also the lack of co-ordination and integration of 
the ganglia centres. 

A repetition of ganglia is all that is present in the 
most elementary forms of neuron organization, and only 
in the subsequent ascending series of animal life do 
the separate ganglia become co-ordinated, integrated, and 
differentiated into a true neuron organization. In this 
respect neuron organization follows the law of organ- 
ization in general which proceeds from a repetition of 
organs with like structure and function to a multiplicity of 
highly differentiated organs unlike as to structure and 
function. The lower forms of plants have a repetition of the 
same organ. The same holds true of animal life, the lower 
organized forms of the animal series have similarly a repeti- 
tion of like organs. A similar state we find in the history of 
the various forms of nervous systems. The lowest form 
of the nervous system is essentially one of repetition, while 
the principle of differentiation comes to the foreground 
in the higher types of animal life. In fact, repetition of 
organs is taken as a fundamental characteristic of a low 
stage of development. The structure of the nervous sys- 
tem is systemic or segmental in character. The complexity 
is at first purely quantitative, and only afterward becomes 
also qualitative. From complexity of like systems or seg- 
ments the nervous system progresses to complexity of un- 
like systems or segments. The diversity of structure and 
function of the system or segment increases with the course 
of development. 



CHAPTER III 

TYPES OF NEURON ORGANIZATION 

From this stand-point the types of the nervous system 
may be arranged into the following ascending series : 

(I) The disseminated type. 

(II) The systemic, or segmental type, which may he 
subdivided, according to form as well as degree of co-ordi- 
nation, into the following subdivisions: 

(a) The radial type. 

(5) The bilatero-ventral type. 

(c) The median-dorsal type. 

In the Actinia the neurons are in a disseminated state. 
The neurons, as yet but little differentiated from the other 
cells, are found strewn in a more or less disconnected state 
under the ectoderm or outer layer of the animal. In the 
Planaria a similar structure is found. 

In the Ascidian and others, the nervous system consists 
of a group of neurons, or of a single nerve-ganglion with 
protoplasmic processes radiating all over the body of the 
animal. Dendrons, axons, collaterals and the branches of 
terminal arborizations are distributed all over the organ- 
ism, receiving impressions from the external and internal 
environments and reacting by muscular activity or glandu- 
lar secretion. The same neuron receives its sensory im- 
pressions, and also sends out motor reactions in response 
to the stimulations, — that is, it is also motor — the neuron, 
therefore, is sensory motor in character. 

In the Medusae, such as the Acaleplice, there is a series of 
groups of neurons or of ganglia, but they are not intercon- 
nected. The groups are not organically connected by radi- 
12 



TYPES OF NEURON ORGANIZATION 13 

ating fibres, but their co-ordination is extremely simple, 
being rather synchronous in nature. (See Fig. 7.) Each 
ganglion, with its portion, acts by itself, and all work to- 
gether, because they belong to the same general body 
system of the particular individual. The co-ordination is 
established through the general synchronous action of the 
body cells, otherwise the cells could not possibly co-operate. 
Should the portion with its ganglion be cut off, it would 
still go on functioning independ- 

ently. The ganglia are neither j$ f jfe— - ..^q 

functionally nor organically di- jf \/~v \ ,-*--"" 

rectly connected, but have a co- I S^r ' f 

ordination of a purely syn- \/ ^\J 

chronic order, and are like **w-w«^ 

separate individuals working in Fig. 7.— Diagram of the 

unison and performing their bel1 of Aurdia Aurita with 
„ , . , , i • eight sense-organs. (After 

functions at the same given C1 , 

time. In other words, in this 

stage the co-ordination is due not to internal unifying 

organizations, but to the mere fact of the synchronous 

rhythm in the physiological functions. 

In Hydromedusce the interconnection of the nerve-cen- 
tres is more organic in character. The groups of neurons or 
nerve-centres are connected by their protoplasmic processes 
and are organized into a double ring system. The upper 
ring consists of a layer of more or less sparsely strewn gan- 
glia connected by delicate protoplasmic processes. The lower 
ring consists of more ganglia than the upper one. 'These 
ganglia are interconnected by more or less thick nerve- 
fibres. Both rings are brought into relations by nerve- 
fibres, thus giving rise to a further co-ordination of the two 
co-ordinated ring systems of neurons. From the ganglia of 
the two rings, fibres radiate in all directions, supplying 
every portion of the animal with sensory and motor fibres. 
(See Fig. 8.) 

Similarly in the Radiata, such as the Echinus, or the 



14 



MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 




Fig. 8. — Htdromeddsa. 
a, umbrella; 6, manubrium; 
c, margin of tbe swimming 
bell with nerve-ring. 



starfish, the nervous system consists of a series of ganglia 
co-ordinated into a central ring, localized round the mouth 
of the animal. This central ring of ganglia sends out nerve- 
fibres in different directions. 
Each arm is innervated by its 
closely situated ganglion or group 
of neurons. All the ganglia or 
groups are connected by radiat- 
ing protoplasmic processes, thus 
establishing a co-ordination of 
all the groups of ganglia. (See 
Fig. 9.) 

In the Annelida, representing 
the bilatero- ventral type, we meet 
with a more complex structure of 
the nervous system. (See Fig. 
10.) The ganglia instead of hav- 
ing a radial arrangement become organized in chains. The 
anterior or the central ganglion is the most massive, and is 
probably brought about by a 
coalescence of many minor 
ganglia. The rest of the gan- 
glia are much smaller and form 
a longitudinal series which 
have a segmentation corre- 
sponding to the metameres of 
the body. The cerebral gan- 
glion gives origin to the nerves 
of the sense-organs, the other 
ganglia supply the other or- 
gans, and also give rise to a 
visceral nervous system. Of 
the sensory organs present, 
there may be found an auditory vesicle, tactile organs, and 
a pair of eye-spots. 

In the Annelida the segmental plan of structure stands 




Fig. 9. — Nervous System 
of the Starfish, a, central 
nerve-ring that surrounds the 
mouth; b, peripheral nerves of 
the arms. (After J. Loeb.) 



TYPES OF NEURON ORGANIZATION 



15 



out clear and distinct. Each 
ganglion supplies and inner- 
vates its own segment. The 
individual is formed by asso- 
ciations of segments, and the 
nervous system consists of 
an aggregation of ganglia, 
largely preserving their indi- 
vidual independence. The 
differentiation of structure 
and function is at its mini- 
mum, the segments are prac- 
tically similar as to consti- 
tution, and form so many 
repetitions of one and the 
same fundamental ganglion. 
In the Radiata the plan of 
repetition is radial, in the 
Annelids the plan is longi- 
tudinal, and as such it is 
far more restricted as to co- 
ordination. 

In the lower animals, in 
the Medusce, in the Siphono- 
pliorce, the neurons and their 
ganglia are diffused without 
any plan and co-ordination; 
in the Radiata, such as the 
starfish, the neurons and 
their ganglia become organ- 
ized on some general plan, 
but the plan is still diffused, 
the similar still undifferen- 
tiated ganglia become radi- 
ally organized along many 
lines of repetitive co-ordina- 




Fig. 10. — A, The Leech {Hir- 
udo mediciri). B, The Nervous 
System of the Leech. (After 
J. Steiner.) 



16 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tion. The further advance of repetitive co-ordination is a 
restriction to two lines or even to one line, instead of many- 
similar lines of development. In the lower forms of the 
Annelida, as well as the embryonic stages of the higher 
forms, two similar chains of ganglia run parallel to each 
other, and only in the adults of the more advanced forms 
do we find that the two parallel chains become integrated 
into one series. The course of evolution is to a greater in- 
tegration of similarly functioning ganglia. 

In the Molluscoidea, which probably descend from a 
common form with the Annelids, the nervous system is ex- 
tremely simple, consisting of one ganglion or group of 
neurons, sending off their protoplasmic processes to various 
portions of the organism. In the Bryozoa, usually united 
to form colonies, the nervous system consists of one oesopha- 
geal ganglion placed between the mouth and the arms. In 
the Laphopoda this ganglion is contained in the concavity 
of the laphoplwre, the disk bearing tentacles on which the 
mouth is placed, and supplies the tentacles and oesophagus 
with numerous nerves. 

When many individuals go to form a colony or a com- 
posite individual, a more or less co-ordinating colonial 
nervous system is found to take rise. 

If from the Annelida, we pass to the Arthropoda we find 
the same fundamental type preserved. There is one supra- 
cesophageal ganglion that constitutes the brain and a sub- 
oesophageal ganglion and ganglionic chain, or ventral nerve 
cord. With the rise in the scale of evolution of the Arthro- 
poda the cerebral ganglia become more massive and more 
complex and give rise to bundles of nerves innervating the 
different sense-organs which become finer and more com- 
plex in structure and function. The suboesophageal gan- 
glion with the chain of ventral ganglia undergo a similar 
change: they grow and develop quantitatively as well as 
qualitatively; they become more massive, more complex, 
more integrated, and more differentiated. Thus in Limu- 



TYPES OF NEURON ORGANIZATION 



17 



lus polyphemus, one of the oldest representatives of the 
Arthropoda, the nervous system consists of a dorsal or 







Fig. 11. — Nervous System of Limulus polyphemus. o, Supraoeso- 
phageal ganglion ; c, commisure ; u, suboesophageal ganglion. A, b, c, d, 
abdominal ganglia. (After J. Loeb.) 



supracesophageal ganglion, a commissure and suboesopha- 
geal ganglion, with a chain of six small abdominal or ven- 
tral ganglia. 

The nervous system of the Limulus is highly segmental 
3 



18 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

in character. (See Fig. 11.) Each peripheral organ 
belonging to a segment of the body has its correspond- 
ing segment in the nervous system. This is well brought 
out in one of the experiments made by Professor Loeb. 
The whole nervous system was removed in a Limulus 
with the exception of a small portion of the left side of 
the commissure and the six ventral ganglia. No connec- 
tion was left between the two portions, still the Limulus 
went on living; it had to be artificially fed. These ven- 
tral ganglia are indispensable, since they innervate the 
gills requisite in the respiration of the animal. The por- 
tion of the commissure left was also necessary, because 
some of the leg movements were requisite in the recep- 
tion of food. The animal in such a state received the food 
and nourished itself like a normal individual. So inde- 
pendent are the groups of neurons, that Patten has demon- 
strated that in a Limulus each leg receives food in a nor- 
mal way, when nothing else is left in the process of oper- 
ation except the portion that directly innervates the leg. 

In the crab the dorsal or brain ganglia are little devel- 
oped; the ventral ganglia are, however, far more massive 
and better developed. 

In the house-fly the dorsal ganglion is comparatively 
massive, and so are also some of the ventral ganglia. (See 
Fig. 12.) 

In the honey-bee the dorsal ganglion, or the brain, is 
very massive and highly developed, and so are also the ven- 
tral ganglia. (See Fig. 13.) This is brought out clearly, 
when we compare the nervous system of the honey-bee 
with that of the house-fly. 

If the fly is deprived of its brain, or of the dorsal gan- 
glion, spontaneous movements disappear, the fly remains in 
the same position, never moving unless acted upon by an 
external stimulus. If one of the legs is tickled, it will re- 
spond by contraction, while the others will remain quiet; 
only when the stimulus becomes very intense, only then, 



TYPES OF NEURON ORGANIZATION 19 




Fig. 12. — Nekvous System op 
House-Fly (Musca vomitoria). 
a, dorsal ganglion ; i, subcesopha- 
geal ganglion ; c, <?, ganglia. 
(After J. Steiner.) 



Fig. 13. — Nervous System of 
the Honey-Bee (Apis mellifica). a, 
dorsal ganglion ; 6, subcesophageal 
ganglion ; c, d, e, rest of ganglia. 
(After J. Steiner.) 



20 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

do all the legs respond and the body shifts its position. 
If the wings are left, then the brainless fly may even make 
flying movements. If now the abdomen is cut off, leaving 
only the middle portion, the peripheral organs are found to 
respond to stimuli, and even for quite a long time after the 
operation has been performed, clearly demonstrating the 
organic independence of the ganglia. More striking, how- 
ever, is the following experiment : The abdomen of the fly 
is cut clear off the body, leaving the middle and anterior 
portions, care being taken that the wings should not be 
injured. The fly will immediately be on the wing in the 
most unconcerned manner. Bethe made a similar experi- 
ment on the bee; he cut off its abdomen and the bee went 
on feeding, as if nothing had happened. 

Experiments demonstrating the functional independ- 
ence of the different ganglia innervating the corre- 
sponding segments can be performed in all Arthropoda in 
which the segmentation is well emphasized. Segments of 
an operated individual, when thrown together, are from 
mutual stimulation seen struggling with each other like 
separate individuals. The experiment is very striking in 
showing the functional independence of the segments. 
Being functionally independent, the only bond that can 
keep the segments together is that of an actual physical 
union. The groups of neurons become physically con- 
nected by means of ingrowing protoplasmic processes. 
Such, in fact, is the condition that has been found by 
recent research in the nervous system of the lower forms 
of animal life, and to a certain extent in the lower ganglia 
of the higher forms. 

Whitman has shown that the entire nervous system of 
Annelids may be regarded as a series of brains, and that 
normally a pair of these nerve-centres or brains belongs 
to each segment. The vertebrate as well as the human 
brain is also a complex system ; it is made up of segments, 
of many brains. 



TYPES OF NEURON ORGANIZATION 21 

In the Vertebrates representing the median-dorsal type 
the aggregates of neuron systems are fused and highly com- 
plex. The nervous system of Vertebrates may be regarded 
as an organization of many segments, of many individual 
brain systems; it only differs from the lower types by the 
greater aggregation, co-operation, and differentiation of its 
constituent parts. The systemic or segmental structure of 
the vertebrate nervous system can be well demonstrated 
in cold-blooded animals, such, for instance, as the frog, but 
it can also be proven in warm-blooded animals, such as the 
dove or the dog. The spinal cord, the medulla, and the 
cerebral ganglia represent aggregations of complex sys- 
tems of many segments, many individual brains organically 
interconnected. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE LAW OF INDIVIDUALITY AND EVOLUTION 

If we examine more closely the representatives of the 
lower forms of organic life, we find that the development 
consists in a mere multiplication of similar parts; in other 
words, organic evolution in the lower stages of life is 
purely quantitative in nature ; it is only in the higher forms 
that the ganglia become differentiated both as to structure 
and function, and their organization becomes qualitative in 
character. 

In the lower forms the function of each ganglion does 
not differ in nature from those of the other ganglia in the 
chain. The functioning activity of the organism is not a 
synthesis of differentiated, intimately interrelated and 
functionally dependent ganglia, but simply a conglomera- 
tion of ganglia whose only union is their spatial intercon- 
nection, and whose only relationship is a sum of many sim- 
ilar actions occurring simultaneously. Proximity in space 
and functional simultaneity in time constitute the only 
bonds of union. 

Since the ganglia are in reality functionally independ- 
ent, in order to insure simultaneity of function, the bond 
is an organic one. The neurons of the different ganglia 
become organically connected — in other words, they 
become concrescent. Thus the findings of Apathy, Bethe, 
and others have shown concrescence of neurons in the lower 
forms of life, such as the leech, for instance, as well as in 
the lower ganglionic structures of the higher forms of 
life. 

It is only when we reach the higher and more complex 



INDIVIDUALITY AND EVOLUTION 23 

stages of life that we leave the level of quantitative rela- 
tions and enter that of qualitative interrelations. In the 
higher forms of life the ganglia become so differentiated 
and interrelated that they cannot work without the co- 
operation of other ganglia. 

A similar state we find in the stages of social grouping. 
The individual in the primitive community is practi- 
cally independent and economically self-sufficient. What 
binds him to his small village community is intimate 
organic ties, blood-relationship. The same holds true of 
the community. What connects the small communities 
as belonging to the tribe, to the nation, is once more organic 
blood-relationship. It is only when society becomes more 
diversified in structure, when the division of labor and dif- 
ferentiation of occupation and profession increase, when 
the individual becomes so economically dependent that his 
food supply, the satisfaction of his requirements and his 
functioning life activity are impossible without social co- 
operation, it is only then that the individual becomes freed 
from the bondage of blood-relationship. In other words, 
with the growth and development of social organization 
organic bondage is replaced by functional relationship. 

The same law holds good of organic evolution. In the 
lower stages of organic life nothing short of actual struct- 
ural relationship and organic interconnection can insure 
co-operation into a whole of the similarly functioning and 
really independent ganglia. If one arm of the starfish is 
cut off with its corresponding ganglion, the arm reacts and 
functions like a complete healthy starfish. The same is true 
of the Echinus. The Nereis, and even the leech may 
be regarded as a fair illustration of our point of view. 
The leech we know consists of a dorsal, or what may be 
termed cerebral ganglion, and of an oesophageal ganglion 
with a series of ganglia arranged in a chain. Now it is 
found that the different portions when cut off the main 
body behave like the complete individual leech. The ad- 



3 



24 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

justments and adaptations of the separated portions of the 
leech are found not to differ from those observed in the 
healthy individual of the species. In the rainworm and in 
the individuals of other species of the Annelids we meet 
with similar conditions. Segments act like complete in- 
dividuals. The complete individual is really nothing but 
a composite of many segments which may, in a certain 
sense, be regarded as inferior, but still more or less inde- 
pendent individuals. The organic unity of the complete 
/^fiealthy individual is brought about by structural relation- 
ship, by the actual concrescence of the many independent 
inferior ganglia or segment-individualities. 

The concrescence of inferior individualities or of gan- 
glia is all the more possible, nay, even inevitable, because 
the conditions to which the individual reacts are uniform 
and simple. The requisite mode of reaction or of function 
is simple, unvaried, and unmodified, a condition also found 
to be true of the lower forms of consciousness. 

With the advance of organic evolution the ganglia be- 
come more integrated, and at the same time more qualita- 
tively differentiated. Each ganglion or system of neurons 
assumes a different position and a definite stage of the func- 
tion as a whole. This very differentiation or qualitative 
development makes it impossible for separate neurons or 
ganglia to manifest their activity, unless they participate in 
one systemic whole ; in other words, they always function 
in aggregates. The bond that keeps neurons and ganglia 
is not any more of a purely external character, but it is of 
an internal nature, it is one of functional life activity. In 
the higher forms of life the interrelation of neuron-systems, 
especially in those belonging to the most complex and most 
highly developed aggregates, is entirely of a functional nat- 
ure. There is no actual structural connection, no organic 
bond except that of function. This functional bond is all 
the more necessary, as with the ascent of organic evolution 
adaptations to external environment become more and more 



INDIVIDUALITY AND EVOLUTION 25 

complex and varied, the same elements and groups being 
requisite to enter into functional relations with various 
aggregates. The diversity of functional life activity is con- 
ditioned by the independence and freedom of individual 
elements and aggregates. 

In the lower stages of mental evolution, where social 
life is more or less simple, uniform, and there is lit- 
tle more to communicate beyond some simple incidents 
occurring in life, a whole narrative can be incorporated 
in one visual symbol, such as picture-writing or hiero- 
glyphics. With the advance of culture and development 
of mental life, sentences, phrases, and finally syllables be- 
come independently represented by different symbols, 
which enter into functional relations with one another, 
such as the syllabic writing of Babylonic civilization. The 
rise of civilization and the rapid growth of mental activity 
in all its phases bring about such a wealth of mental 
products that the former modes of symbolic representation 
in whole blocks become too rigid. The last bonds have to 
be broken, the individual symbolic elements become lib- 
erated, become free and independent. The economy in 
symbols is most marvellous. With some twenty-four or 
twenty-five symbols the infinite wealth of thought can be 
easily represented, and the ease with which it can be 
effected is almost miraculous. The individual elemental 
symbols are no longer indissolubly combined; their rela- 
tions become purely functional in character. The inde- 
pendence of the individual element brings about the great 
ease and elasticity of combinations and the possibility of 
infinite progress in the representation of newly formed 
mental relations. 

The law of economy reigns supreme not only in social 
development, but also in organic evolution. The lower an 
organization is, the more organic, the more fixed are the 
relations of the elementary individual neurons and their 
groups; the higher an organization is, the more scope is 



26 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

given to smaller and more restricted aggregates of neurons ; 
and finally in the highest spheres of the highest organic 
forms the individual element, the neuron, attains complete 
independence and obtains full freedom in entering as an 
element into any neuron aggregate. The economy is here 
of the utmost importance. The possible groupings, per- 
mutations, and combinations by means of associations and 
dissociations of individual elements and their groups are 
incalculable, and progress is practically infinite. From 
structural to functional relationship, from organic bondage 
to individual freedom of the whole scale of organizations, 
from the lowest to the highest, from the simplest medusa 
to the highest state of society, — this is the law of evolution. 
We may say that this law of evolution has not only a bio- 
logical, but also a psychological, sociological, and even an 
ethical significance. The general tendency of evolution is 
from structure to function, from bondage to freedom of 
the individual elements. 



CHAPTER V 

EVOLUTIONARY STAGES OP PSYCHIC ELEMENTS 

A psychological analysis reveals to us the fact that 
psychic elements constituting the sensory compounds are 
of such a stable character in the nature of their combina- 
tions that dissociation is wellnigh impossible. The union 
of sensory elements with other sensory presentative groups 
and compounds is not free in its character. The psychic 
elements in these elementary psychic compounds are indis- 
solubly bound. Sensory presentative elements enter into 
what may be figuratively termed chemical union, the ele- 
ments being so intimately interrelated and interconnected 
as to give rise to a psychic tissue in which they are struct- 
urally integrated, forming a continuous organic unity. 
The psychic elements of the sensory presentative compound 
are, so to say, grown into one organic whole, and no disso- 
ciation can possibly be effected without injuring the con- 
stituent ingredients of the organic psychic compound. A 
sensation of red, of sweet, or of pain, is in reality a com- 
pound of many psychic elements, but their combination is so 
stable, firm, and indissoluble that the elements cannot be 
freed from their union, and their joint organic activity be- 
comes revealed in the moment-consciousness as one continu- 
ous unanalyzable unity. It is only by inference that the 
elements of the sensory compound can be separated; they 
can be postulated, but are not given directly in experience. 
Sensory compounds cannot be decomposed. As soon as a 
sensory element is brought into activity at all, it must work 
in a group of which it is an organic constituent. The isola- 
tion of sensory elements from their compound groups is im- 

27 



28 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

possible, because it is death of the element itself. The life- 
being of the sensory element is in its groups; apart from 
the group the element cannot exist. In other words, it is 
always definite groups of sensory elements which act as a 
whole, never isolated elements. The sensory elements are 
so organically connected, so firmly integrated that they 
admit of no variation in their interrelations; no transposi- 
tions, no shiftings of the elements are possible. The ele- 
ments of the sensory presentative compound have definite 
relations which admit of no change. The group of inter- 
related sensory presentative elements is given fixed and 
ready-made. 

In passing to presentative and secondary presentative 
combinations or peceptual systems in which the sensory 
compounds enter as constituents, we find that the element- 
ary secondary compounds, though otherwise firmly inte- 
grated, still admit of variation. The integration of the 
groups, and especially of the secondary presentative groups, 
is not of that unmodifiable organic character. Around a 
nucleus formed by a group or combination of groups of 
primary elements, groups of secondary sense-elements be- 
come aggregated, and the total aggregate gives rise to a 
consolidated and unified system of groups, resulting in a 
percept. In perceiving the chair yonder only the visual 
sensations constitute the true sensory groups that form 
the nucleus of the percept. The other psychic groups that 
are crystallized round the percept, such as the weight, the 
resistance, the volume, the size, shape, and distance, are 
really visuo-tacto-muscular groups; they are largely tacto- 
muscular groups tinged by the sensory quality of the 
nucleus ; they are tacto-motor groups, sensorially visualized, 
seen indirectly. Though these secondary sensory groups 
are firmly integrated, still their integration is not of such 
a character as not to become disintegrated and rearranged 
into new systems of groups. Such a disintegration is no 
doubt effected with difficulty, but it is by no means impos- 



STAGES OF PSYCHIC ELEMENTS 29 

sible. The perceptual compounds, unlike the sensory ones, 
admit of decomposition into elementary primary and 
secondary sensory groups. The component elementary 
sensory groups can be experienced separately under differ- 
ent conditions and circumstances. We can close our eyes 
and walk up to the object of perception, say the chair, and 
thus experience the free muscular sensations of distance, 
or we may push our hand against the chair and experience 
the sensations of resistance, or take the chair in the hand 
and experience the muscular sensations of weight and 
shape. The primary and secondary sensory groups, in 
short, going to make up the percept can be isolated by 
withdrawing the organizing nuclear group of primary sen- 
sations, thus bringing about a disintegration of the par- 
ticular aggregate. 

If we inspect more closely this process of isolation, we 
find that the constituent secondary sensory groups are not 
really isolated, so as to stand out all by themselves. What 
actually happens in this seeming process of isolation is 
simply the formation of a series of new perceptual aggre- 
gates, in which the particular sensory groups that are iso- 
lated and specially brought out become the nuclei, the foci. 
For in the perceptual aggregate it is always the character of 
the nucleus that is specially brought out, and it is the 
nuclear sensory aggregate that tinges with its sensory color 
all the other aggregates. To revert to our previous exam- 
ple, to the percept chair. In passing the finger over the 
chair, the touch may form the nucleus of the moment, and 
may stand out, on that account, more clearly in conscious- 
ness, but around this primary nuclear sensory group other 
secondary sensory groups, such as thermal and muscular 
sensory elements, become organized to form the synthesis 
of the perceptual moment. If we try to find out the shape 
of the chair by a series of touches, we really form a series 
■ of percepts, the sensory nuclei of which are not visual, but 
tacto-muscular in their nature. A sensory group, then, 



30 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

cannot in reality appear in a purely isolated form. It 
can only appear as a nucleus around which other sensory 
groups are organized. 

To the highly developed type of moment-conscious- 
ness 1 a sensory group always appears embedded in 
a more or less plastic material of secondary sensory 
groups. A sensory group tends to become a nucleus 
of a perceptual aggregate. A prick is localized on a 
definite point of the skin, and is felt as coming from a 
hard, resistant, sharpened object. Sensory groups come in 
aggregates. Dissolved out from union in one aggregate, 
the sensory group becomes liberated, but only immediately 
to enter into combination with another aggregate. If we 
designate primary sensory groups by capitals and sec- 
ondary sensory groups by small letters, then a B c d 
may represent a percept in which B is the nucleus; 
a x &! C d x another percept where C is most prominent, 
a 2 bo c 2 D another percept in which D is most promi- 
nent, and constitutes the nuclear sensory group. With 
the formation of each new percept the particular sensory 
group which has become the focus or the nucleus stands 
out most clearly, and hence may be regarded as isolated. 
In reality, however, not only is isolation absent, but the 
emphasized sensory group itself becomes changed in char- 
acter. The sensory group appears as a nucleus, as a 
component of a new psychic aggregate, and from being a 
secondary sensory group it becomes a primary sensory 
group. One thing, however, is clear, that the sensory 
groups appear in different compounds, and though never 
entirely free, may still be regarded as capable of rela- 
tive isolation by forming constituents of different com- 
pounds. The liberation of the sensory group from the 
perceptual aggregate can be effected in an indirect way. 
The primary and secondary groups may be shifted, but 

1 See Sidis, Psychology of Suggestion. This will be developed in 
Principles of Psychology and Psychopathology. 



STAGES OF PSYCHIC ELEMENTS 31 

shifted with great difficulty. The groups of the percept are 
hound in the total aggregate, but, unlike the elements in 
the sensory group, they are not fixed in an indissoluble 
union. 

At the same time we must point out the important fact 
that the secondary sensory elements, the chief character- 
istic of the percept, differ from primary sensory elements 
in being more intimately associated with elements repre- 
sentative in character. This fact is excellently well 
brought out in illusions. When one is in fear on a dark 
night, in the depths of a forest, he is apt to take every 
tree for a robber. When one's mind is full with the 
thought of a certain object, he is apt to mistake things for 
it; he is apt to see that object in things that have not the 
least similitude to it; one may take floating sea-weed for a 
sea-serpent, and the outline of a post for the figure of a 
man, and even of a special well-known friend whom one has 
expected for some time. In lines so drawn as to admit 
of different systemic combinations, such, for instance, as 
Helmholtz's figures, one can see whichever arrangement he 
wants, according to his previous representations. In look- 
ing at the outlines of clouds, or at the irregular configura- 
tion of ink-blots one can see different figures of objects, 
according to the representations and images that freely and 
accidentally rise before the mind. In a certain sense we 
may say that perception is sensory representation. Per- 
ception may be regarded as the intermediate stage between 
sensation and representation. The perceptive process is on 
the way to become representative, and the percept may be 
partly regarded as unloosened sensation, but still bound 
representation. Fusion is specially characteristic of the 
interrelation of groups of percepts. 

Turning now to representation, we find that the con- 
stituent elements are free in their interrelations. The con- 
nection among the representative elements is no longer one 
of compound, characteristic of primary sensory elements, 



32 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

or of fusion, characteristic of secondary sensory elements. 
The relation is of such a nature as to be highly unstable 
and easily dissociated as soon as association is formed. 
The constituent representative elements do not lose their 
individuality in the aggregate into which they enter, as the 
primary sensory elements do in sensation, or both the 
primary and the secondary do in perception. In repre- 
sentation the constituent elements, though forming an asso- 
ciation, still stand out clear and distinct as independent 
elements. 

Representative elements can be shifted with great 
ease, giving rise to all forms of combinations, combina- 
tions of which neither primary nor secondary elements or 
groups can possibly permit. In experiencing a sensa- 
tion of red of a particular shade of saturation and in- 
tensity, the sensory elements present are fixed and given 
in definite relations; in perceptions the experience of 
a percept, say of a table, is also definitely given; the 
particular individual percept experienced has definite fixed 
elements and relations as soon as it is perceived at all. 
The horse in perception has definite relations, the table, 
the chair, the lamp, the house, present in perception, have 
definite, more or less fixed relations which admit of no 
change. "We cannot see a horse with its tail on its fore- 
head and ears on its back, the chair has no wings to fly 
with, nor has the table a tongue for speech. The elements 
and relations in perception are fixed. Not so is it in rep- 
resentation. In representation the horse may have its 
mane on the back and tail in front, the ass may preach 
or prophesy, the chair and table may have tongues and 
carry on conversations. What cannot be done in rep- 
resentation? The very foundation of the universe may be 
removed and another world with new relations may be 
created. 

In representation, in imagination, impossible forms 
of metamorphoses may be effected; the most marvellous 



STAGES OF PSYCHIC ELEMENTS 33 

deeds may be accomplished, miracles may be enacted, the 
life of Arabian Nights may be passed through, and we 
may be transported into wonderland with the greatest ease. 
In representation, time, space, and conditions are anni- 
hilated, and the impossible becomes a reality. In other 
words, representative elements, unlike sensory elements, do 
not form fixed unalterable relations; they possess a high 
plasticity in their relationships ; they are independent, and 
enter into free associations in which the relations as well 
as the elements can shift and change with the utmost ease 
and facility. While the sensory elements are firmly held 
in compounds and the perceptual elements are in a state of 
fusion, the representative elements attain their independ- 
ence and freedom. 

We are here confronted by the same law characteristic 
of evolution in general. The course of psychic evolution 
runs parallel to that of organic evolution, such as we have 
found in the growth and development of neuron systems or 
of social states and products and even of ethical relations — 
namely, the substitution of functional relations for struct- 
ural relations. The tendency of psychic evolution, as it is 
of evolution in general, is from structure to function, from 
bondage to freedom of the individual elements. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE ATTRIBUTES OP PSYCHIC ELEMENTS 

We must point out the fundamental difference be- 
tween representative and sensory elements, both primary 
and secondary. A representation is not made up of sen- 
sory elements. To reduce an image, an idea to sensations 
is untrue to fact. The idea of a color has no hue, the idea 
of a tone does not sound, nor is there any flavor to an idea 
of taste. An idea of intense pain does not ache, in fact it 
may be pleasant; the idea of an intense light is hardly 
painful to the eyes, and the idea of a jarring sound is 
hardly shocking to the ear. 

Sensory elements may pass through all degrees of in- 
tensity. Starting with the minimum visible, or minimum 
audible, for example, we can advance along a series of 
increased intensities, finally reaching a maximum. This 
attribute of intensity is specially characteristic of sensory 
elements. A sound may be high or low, a blow may be 
strong or weak, a light may be dark or bright, a toothache 
may be intense, but an idea of the same sensation is neither 
high, nor low, nor strong, nor weak, nor dark, nor bright, 
nor intense. Representative elements lack intensity, the 
essential attribute of sensory elements. Sensory elements, 
on the other hand, lack the attributes characteristic of rep- 
resentative elements, — namely, vividness. The idea or rep- 
resentation of an intense sensation may be very vague, while 
the idea of a weak sensation may be very vivid. 

Representative elements differ from the primary and 
secondary sensory elements not only by the attribute of 

34 



ATTRIBUTES OF PSYCHIC ELEMENTS 35 

vividness, but also by another important characteristic, — 
namely, recognition. A representative element is not 
only cognitive, but recognitive. Presentative sensory ele- 
ments, primary and secondary, have direct reference to 
the object, to the relations of the external environment. 
The reference of representative elements to external rela- 
tions is essentially of an indirect character. In other 
words, sensory elements, whether primary or secondary, 
have immediate cognition, while representative elements 
have mediate cognition, or recognition. I see the book on 
my table; I close my eyes and represent it to myself 
over again. I look out of the window and see a house, 
a horse and carriage near by; I close my eyes and 
represent the whole scene over again. It is usually stated 
that the representation is a copy of the original experi- 
ence of the presentation. Evidently, the representation is 
regarded as not being the same as the presentation, just 
as a copy is not the same as the original. Representative 
elements have the function of cognizing again, the function 
of recognition. In representation experiences are lived 
over again without the actual recurrence of those experi- 
ences. 

In order that a copy, a representation, be a true copy 
of its original, it must be cognized as a copy, — that is, it 
must be cognized as something already cognized; in other 
words, it must be recognized. The image, representation, 
or idea of a table is not itself a table, nor is it a sensory 
compound referring to the object table, it is rather a psy- 
chic state referring to the sensory compound on its ob- 
jective aspect. The representation does not refer directly 
to the table, as it is in the case of the percept, but to the 
table as perceived. The image, or representation, refers not 
to the object immediately, but mediately, to the object as 
object of the sensory compound, to the percept. Hence 
the object is cognized over in representation; in other 
words, it is recognized. 



36 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Recognition is either of a general or of a specific char- 
acter; thus in the idea " man," along with its content, 
there is also recognition in a general way; the idea 
' ' man ' ' refers to man in general, the content not referring 
to any particular individual. The representation, however, 
I have of my friend John refers to John specifically. In 
the immediate perception itself there is no recognition pres- 
ent. In the direct perception of the object " horse," we 
are hardly justified of speaking of recognition. In the 
mere perception of the horse we do not recognize it as a 
horse. The fact that we perceive the object as it is, depends 
entirely on the nature of the sensory compound which gives 
the sense of reality ; that the object is identified as belong- 
ing to a certain class is due to simultaneous association 
involving the functions of representative elements, — 
namely, recognition. In the perception itself there is cog- 
nition, but no recognition. 

There is, however, recognition present, whenever the 
percept is associated with representative elements. When, 
for instance, on seeing a horse, I recognize it as my 
friend's horse, representations of my friend's horse pass 
through my mind, giving rise to specific recognition. On 
perceiving an object, and identifying it or recognizing it 
first as a huge beast and afterward as an elephant, repre- 
sentative elements with their function of recognition are 
once more present, giving rise to general recognition, the 
object being identified and classified in the process of recog- 
nition not as any specific experience that can be localized 
under definite conditions. The process of recognition may 
pass from the general to the more specific, and in the course 
of the process of association with representative elements 
the object attains a more and more specific determination. 

The characteristics of the sensory elements are organic 
cohesion and intensity; the main traits of the representa- 
tive elements are vividness, recognition and functional in- 
dependence. Cognition is characteristic of the sensory and 



ATTRIBUTES OF PSYCHIC ELEMENTS 37 

recognition of the representative elements. Various com- 
binations of psychic elements may give rise to various 
states of intermediary degrees, ranging from the most in- 
tense cohesion of sensory compounds to the most vivid 
independence of representations. 



CHAPTER VII 

KEPRESENTATIONS AND THE BREAK-UP OP PERSONALITY 

"We have pointed out that recognition is specially 
characteristic of representative elements as against cog- 
nition of sensory elements. Let us inspect the mat- 
ter somewhat more closely. What does recognition imply? 
When we meet a friend of ours whom we have not 
seen for years, and it takes us time to recognize him; when 
we meet an acquaintance to whom we have been but re- 
cently introduced, and we have a hard struggle to identify 
him; when we hear a fairy story and recognize the old 
scenes of fairy-land we had w T andered through in the dusk 
of the evening; when we read a book hastily glanced 
through before and have a faint recognition of the content 
as the argument now clearly unfolds before our view, do 
; we not under all these circumstances recall something that 
has gone by? Does not re-cognition really mean recall, 
re-membrance ? Recognition then implies memory. Rep- 
resentation involves recollection, revival, recall, and along 
with vividness and functional relationship constitute the 
main characteristics of representative elements. 

What happens now when the process of degeneration 
sets into the domain of representative life? The func- 
tional side of relationship is affected. It means some form 
of functional dissociation. Vividness and recognition or 
recall are equally involved, both become weakened and 
vague in proportion to the extent and depth of the process 
of degeneration. Ordinarily all the three aspects are 
equally affected, and along with functional dissociation 
38 



BREAK-UP OF PERSONALITY 39 

vividness and recall are greatly reduced. There are, how- 
ever, cases which seem to show that vividness may be 
affected along with functional relationship of the rep- 
resentative elements, but that recognition or recall may 
remain clear and distinct. This peculiar affection of rep- 
resentative life will give rise to the formation of double or 
multiple personality, although memory may be fully pres- 
ent and fade away gradually. Under such conditions the 
patient feels that the portions of his life thus affected are 
strange to him; they appear as if they belong to another 
man's life, notwithstanding the testimony of memory to 
the contrary. The patient regards these dissociated tracts 
of his being as one does anaesthetic portions of his body. 
One may see them as belonging to one's body, but 
does not directly feel them as his own. Such disso- 
ciated fields of consciousness, not brightened by the vivid 
light of mental activity, are really outside the range of 
one's own personality and appear to belong to the life- 
existence of another person. The following account sent 
to me may serve as a good illustration : 

' ' Now that a year and a half has passed, I may tell you 
my experience. Then, it was such a very personal matter 
that I kept it to myself. 

I woke to find that eighteen months had passed since 
I fell asleep. That year and a half was blank. I could 
vividly remember my life from very infancy, but the expe- 
riences of those eighteen months were not a part of it. 

I could remember what I had done during this period 
in somewhat the way we remember the daily doings of an 
acquaintance, though far less vividly, and it seemed it was 
not me, though I know full well it was. This was suffi- 
cient to enable me to keep my engagements, and so my 
acquaintances, though noticing a change in me, did not 
know what had happened. 

Really my mental life in the two phases of personality 



u> 



40 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

is as different as day and night, but the habits, being well 
organized, persist through both, and the habits are the most 
noticed characteristics of those we know except in the case 
of some few intimate friends. 

The change or waking occurred not quickly, but grad- 
ually. I was sitting by my window reading — as it hap- 
pened — something of Herbert Spencer's. Something there 
touched a chord that had ceased to vibrate over a year 
before. One point in the chain of my past experience 
found, all was quickly regained. 

Looking out of the window things seemed real — as I 
compared the view out of the window with what it was a 
minute before. It was a real living view to be seen with 
the eyes where there was a flat, faded, uninteresting 
picture. 

The great, great world opened up before me, not to the 
ocular vision tone, but to the mental eye. Again I felt the 
thrill of living awaken those chords of sympathy that bind 
each thing that is with all that is, has been, or is to be. 

During that day and the next, I made a great many 
observations, comparing the two phases of personality — 
the strong and the weak, as I will call them. 

Alas ! I woke to fall asleep again. I hope, I pray, 
there is a waking, for one day of life is worth more than a 
year of sleep. 

It was only a few days later, I don't know exactly how 
long, when going back into precisely the same environ- 
ment, routine habit in its favor, the weaker proved the 
stronger, and pulled me, dragged me back. 

For a few months the personality was very unstable, 
changing phase slightly from day to day. It finally set- 
tled down, but is a very weak personality. I go on without 
much interest in the world, able to make a living, but hav- 
ing few joys and few sorrows, a dull, dull life. The past 
forgotten, almost as fast as passed, little thought of the 
future, and little of the great world about me. I know it 



BREAK-UP OF PERSONALITY 41 

is a great world, because I once could see, but that now to 
me is less than another's testimony. 

As a boy I went to school very little, but read much; I 
read because there was something in books I wanted to 
get at. I took especial delight in scientific study. Except 
the writing of a few scientific thinkers I never read a 
book through from cover to cover, but searched through it 
for the particular mental food I was in need of. What 
I read I sifted into two parts: the bulkiest, useless to me, 
I slung away; the substance of the other was bound up in 
my mental growth, and became a part of me, never to be 
lost or forgotten. Oh, where now? My books were my 
companions. 

Having saved a little money for the purpose, I quit 
work three years ago and entered high school. Decided 
to study Latin, and found it difficult. Not being accus- 
tomed to give up what I had undertaken, I determined to 
conquer it. As it became more difficult, my determination 
became one fixed idea to which everything else was sacri- 
ficed. 

The studies I loved and all of my pleasures were 
given up. 

In eighteen months I had exhausted myself mentally. 
As I had felt my powers failing, life had been one living 
torment. Happy for me, each day was forgotten as it 
passed. 

From sheer exhaustion I gave up the fight. From that 
moment a load was off my mind. I felt stronger. 

It was a few days after this, a Friday or a Saturday, I 
think, I had the experience I have related. It was going 
back into the same school-room that brought me back. 

During the remaining two months of school I read other 
things during study time, and studied none of my lessons, 
but found I could recite and stand my exams, far better 
than before. One exception, I spent three hours a week 
at Latin with my teacher. 



42 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

During these two months everyone thought me very 
original, but the fact is, every original thought I expressed 
during those two months had its birth and growth to matu- 
rity in those two days previous, and the thought, being put 
into word form was carried over the gulf that separates 
the two periods. 

I could not remember in itself that period of the strong 
personality, I could not call to mind its feelings and aspira- 
tions, but I could remember its thoughts, because they 
seemed to have been stereotyped into word (language) 
form. Language seemed to be the intermediate link that 
connected the two phases. Throughout the two months the 
thought of those two days seemed to have made a far 
deeper impression on memory than anything else, and, ex- 
cept as counted by days and hours, those two days were a 
longer period of time than the previous eighteen months. 

A few days or weeks, I don't remember now, though I 
can look it up, after my experience of the strong person- 
ality, feeling that it was fast fading from memory, I wrote 
an account of it, some sixty pages, taking great care to 
make it accurate. Unfortunately, that record has been 
destroyed. I have no direct memory of the period of 
strong personality now, and all I may say about it is based 
on my memory of that record. 

It was written between midnight and three o'clock, and 
I got up from bed to write it. I had previously come to 
the conclusion it must be consigned to writing for fear of 
my death, as I believed it might be of value to someone. 
When I found it fast fading from memory, and realized 
that when it was forgotten I should cease to endeavor to 
let the prisoner out and he should lie unconscious in his 
prison till its threescore and ten were out, and then cease 
to exist without having known of his own existence, except 
for the period of his first score of years. It was this 
thought that took me out of bed at midnight to record the 
experience, for I thought even if it were forgotten, if I 



BREAK-UP OF PERSONALITY 43 

had it recorded in my own handwriting, I should know 
something of the prisoner, and though having no personal 
interest in him, should do something to set him free. 

At the end of the school-year I graduated, Latin not 
excepted, and then began work at a trade, and in that 
change of environment have almost forgotten my two 
years of school-life, which shows what a weak personality 
I have now. However, I have done better than I once 
expected, for I have made a living, and am giving satis- 
faction to my employers, have been advanced, and have 
good promise of further advancement. 

In the weak phase it is characteristic that thought and 
language are inseparable. It is impossible to think faster 
than speak (or speak mentally). In the strong, vigorous 
thought is so independent of words or verbal representa- 
tion that I can think ten or even twenty times as fast as 
I can speak. In the weak, I think in images of words; in 
the strong, I think in images of things. 

In both phases of personality life is made up of seeing 
and doing, and what I do is adapted and directed by what 
I see, but there is this vast difference : in the one, the con- 
nective link is only habit, in the other it is a vast network 
of thought and feeling that constitutes mental life. 

In the weak I may speak of ' what I believe ' just as 
I do in the strong, forgetting that it is of no importance 
what I believe about most things, as it has no part in 
directing my conduct, that being really (however I may 
deceive myself) controlled by habit. In the strong, pre- 
vious to every act throughout the day, is a long but quick 
train of thought which determined it, and this train of 
thought is controlled by my beliefs." 

Ordinarily, however, both vividness and memory are 
affected, and this is especially true in severe cases of disso- 
ciation. Since loss of memory is the most obvious and 
striking pathological manifestation, it is natural that the 
latter alone should become the index of the severity of the 



44 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

extent and depth of the mental lesion. The breaks and 
gaps in the continuity of personal consciousness are 
gauged by loss of memory. Mental systems not bridged 
over by memory are so many independent individualities, 
and if started on their career with a good supply of men- 
tal material, they form so many independent personalities. 
For, after all, where memory is gone the dissociation is 
complete. This dissociation can be traced to functional as 
against structural interrelationship of psychophysiological 
elements and systems. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE NATURE OF FAMILIARITY 

The recognitive function of the representative element 
is possibly more clearly revealed in cases where previous 
perceptual experience of the object does not result in its 
subsequent recognition. Consider what happens, for in- 
stance, when we meet a person whom we do not seem to 
know, but who introduces himself as one who has had the 
pleasure of our acquaintance. We are told of the particu- 
lar circumstances under which we have met, we are re- 
minded of the events that have taken place during that 
time, of our mutual friends and acquaintances that have 
then been present, of the subjects we have conversed; and 
as we scrutinize the features of the stranger's face we try 
to bring up more images, more representations. With the 
growth of the accumulated representative elements the 
stranger's face becomes to us more and more familiar, and 
finally the particular representation relating to the specific 
object, the stranger, shoots up, and we recognize in the 
stranger an old acquaintance. What again happens when 
we meet with a person who is strangely familiar to us. 
The " strange " familiarity consists in the arousal of a 
number of specific representations, many of which are rec- 
ognized as incongruous and are rejected. Representations 
rise and revolve round that percept. The mind tingles 
with cognitive anxiety, with mental throes on the eve of 
giving birth to the specific associations, resulting in final 
recognition. This peculiar condition of subexcitement of 
representative elements started by the perception of an 
object constitutes the state which is termed the sense of 

45 



46 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

familiarity. Familiarity is vague recognition, recognition 
not as yet made specific. 

Familiarity implies former perception, it implies the 
presence in the subconscious of a corresponding represen- 
tation attempting to rise above the threshold of personal 
consciousness. In psychopathic states -of paramnesia we 
find conformation of our present view. An object, an 
event perceived for the first time, appears to the patient 
as familiar. His so-called sense of familiarity may range 
throughout all degrees of recognition, from the point of 
extreme vagueness to the point of full specific distinctness. 
This depends on the phenomena of dissociation. The par- 
tially dissociated subconscious systems first perceive and 
cognize the object in the corresponding formation of rep- 
resentation which give rise to a greater or lesser degree of 
familiarity, according to the extent of association imme- 
diately formed. In many instances this can be proven to be 
the case by putting the patient in a state of hypnosis. In 
some eases the patient may directly declare, "I have had 
a glance at it before, but I have forgotten, and that is 
why it seemed to me familiar." The patient suffering 
from paramnesia, on being confronted with an object, may 
momentarily pass into a subconscious condition in which 
the object is perceived; on immediately recovering from 
his state and perceiving the object once more, a vague 
sense of recognition arises. 

This view is still further confirmed and proved in an 
interesting case that has recently come to my notice. The 
patient is a proof-reader in a newspaper office. While 
reading his proofs it often seems to the patient that he 
has read all that before ; he recognizes the news, although he 
knows that he reads the article or the news for the first time. 
An examination disclosed the fact that the patient, who had 
a tendency to the manifestation of phenomena of the sub- 
conscious order and who frequently passed into psycho- 
pathic subconscious states of short duration, formed the 



THE NATURE OF FAMILIARITY 47 

habit of putting the proofs on. his desk and glancing them 
over cursorily before starting the proof-reading. By gazing 
at his proofs he occasionally falls into a subconscious state, 
and actually reads the article or the news, and when passing 
out of the subconscious state and rereading the proofs he 
recognizes, in a more or less vague form, all he had read 
during his state of dissociation ; representation emerges, and 
complete recognition is effected. Sometimes such complete 
recognition is brought about by the patient 's own efforts. 

The whole wealth of experimental work in hypnosis, as 
well as in psychopathology in general, may be brought in 
proof of the truth that recognition is not to be explained 
by familiarity, but, on the contrary, familiarity is to be ex- 
plained by recognition. Familiarity is vague, incomplete 
recognition, it is recognition in a retrogressive state, so to 
say. To explain recognition by familiarity, and then re- 
duce familiarity to a pleasant mood, to an agreeable feeling 
of at-homeness, is hardly justifiable, because the familiar 
may be indifferent and often even distinctly unpleasant 
and painful. The at-homeness theory of recognition is, 
moreover, inadequate, since it reduces the more known, the 
function of recognition, to the less known moods and feel- 
ings which, as such, are unanalyzable. To assert that 
these moods and feelings are due to organic sensations 
is hardly sufficient. The problem remains untouched, un- 
analyzed and unanswered, for not all organic sensations 
give rise to the sense of familiarity. The mood theory of 
familiarity is inadequate even on its own grounds. 

Experiments in personality metamorphosis, experiments 
in formation of post-hypnotic states with the induction of 
complete or incomplete amnesia, experimental work in 
cases of psychopathic amnesia recurring in the so-called 
states of automatism, as in the states inaptly termed 
"psychic epilepsy," — all these can be adduced in an almost 
endless variety to demonstrate the fact that familiarity is 
based on recognition present in the subconscious. 



48 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

A few examples taken from the great number of ex- 
periments, for the sake of illustration, will suffice for our 
purpose. If we hypnotize a subject and suggest to him 
that on awakening he should quarrel, insult, and kick a 
person present whom he highly respects in his waking 
state, the subject on emerging from the hypnotic condi- 
tion and passing into what I term the hypnonergic state 
will proceed to act out faithfully and earnestly all that 
is suggested to him in hypnosis. When afterward brought 
back into the state of hypnosis and suggested that on 
awaking he should not know anything that had transpired 
since the time of the first hypnotization up to the time of 
the second awaking, the subject, on finally emerging from 
the last state of hypnosis, knows nothing of what has taken 
place. A few days later, however, he may come and tell 
you with an air of great dissatisfaction, like that of a per- 
son who is trying to recall something that is familiar, but 
which nevertheless constantly escapes him, that he has had 
a very disagreeable quarrel with someone, but he does not 
know when it has taken place, what it has been about, nor 
who that person could have possibly been; in fact, the 
whole thing may have been nothing but a dream. The sub- 
ject has simply a feeling of vague familiarity, of something 
disagreeable having occurred and nothing more. The 
whole experience may never come to full consciousness and 
recognition, although it is fully present in the subcon- 
scious, and can be revealed in many different ways — by 
automatic writing, by crystal gazing, by shell-hearing, by 
hypnoidization, by putting him into the hypnotic state, or 
by merely pronouncing the simple formula: "Now you 
can know everything." In case this is not carried out, 
the "feeling of familiarity" gradually fades away, and 
the subject soon forgets all about it; it fades away like a 
distressing, but extremely vague dream. Similar experi- 
ments may be varied as to form and matter, but they 
all yield like results. 



THE NATURE OF FAMILIARITY 49 

It is extremely instructive to watch the way memories 
from the hypnotic state struggle up into the waking con- 
sciousness. Bring the subject into deep hypnosis and tell 
him different things, news that should agitate him, such, 
for instance, that his parents are dead, that his brother is 
arrested for grand larceny, that he himself is a liar of 
the worst kind, tell him things that are calculated to im- 
press him by their unpleasantness; then suggest profound 
amnesia and wake him up gradually, say by counting to 
fifteen or twenty. The subject, if his consciousness admits 
of complete dissociation, will know nothing at all of the 
disagreeable things you have told him during his state of 
hypnosis. If now you tell him: "Try hard, you can re- 
member, you can know what has happened." The subject 
tries hard. Something familiar seems to struggle up in his 
waking consciousness. " You have told me something dis- 
agreeable, but I do not know what it was about." After 
another hard trial : ' ' Oh, yes, something about my parents, 
but I do not know what ; it is familiar to me, it seems within 
my grasp, but somehow it escapes me." After another 
trial and suggestion from the experimenter the subject ex- 
claims: " Oh, yes, you told me my parents died. That 
was rather disagreeable; you ought not to have said it." 
Bit by bit does the hypnotic experience struggle up to the 
surface of the waking consciousness, first in the vague 
form of familiarity and then as complete recognition. The 
rising experience, fully recognized in the subconscious, 
coming to the periphery of the primary waking conscious- 
ness may remain in the arrested state of recognition — 
namely, familiarity, — the fully and completely known ex- 
perience, known to the subwaking consciousness, never pro- 
truding its head above the surface of the subconscious. In 
other words, representations of experience present in the 
subconscious, when emerging slowly into the light of 
the waking consciousness, struggle up not in a form of 
specific recognition, but in a condition of vague familiarity. 
5 



50 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Familiarity is a state of retrogressive, degenerative recogni- 
tion, due to the presence of representative experiences in the 
background of consciousness, in the subconscious. 

Cases of psychopathic amnesia give further evidence of 
the same fundamental truth. Experience passed through 
in a state of narcosis, and in regards to which there is pro- 
found amnesia, can be elicited either by hypnoidization or 
by hypnosis. The experiences present in the mind, disso- 
ciated by the action of the poison, begin to struggle up 
slowly and laboriously and always in the preliminary form 
of familiarity. The same holds true in other forms of psy- 
chopathic amnesia. In some of my cases of amnesia this 
form of struggling up of subconsciously present experi- 
ences were specially well illustrated. The whole series of 
experiments carried out went to show forcibly and palpa- 
bly that the sense of familiarity implies recognition. In 
other cases of amnesia under my experimentation the same 
relation was clearly revealed. The patient need not be 
hypnotized, but put simply into a state of hypnoidization. 1 
The chips and fragments of memories that struggled up to 
the surface of the primary waking consciousness were at 
first incoherent and unfamiliar in character and were not 
recognized by the patients, but as more of them gathered 
and had become synthetized, the sense of recognition began 
to appear. At first the sense of recognition was extremely 
vague, resembling the state of remembrance of a dream gone 
by, then the experience became more familiar ; it appeared 
as something that had actually taken place some time ago in 
the patients' lives; and finally the sense of recognition 
reached its full state of development, and the experiences 
became localized in place and time. In the meantime, dur- 
ing this long and difficult struggle toward full recognition, 
it could be shown that the lost experiences were subcon- 
sciously present. 

1 See Sidis, Psychology of Suggestion ; also Psychopathological 
Researches. 



THE NATURE OF FAMILIARITY 51 

Familiarity, then, cannot be regarded as the primary 
state out of which recognition develops, but, on the con- 
trary, recognition is the primary state and familiarity is 
the derivative one. Of course, if by the term familiarity 
is meant not that psychic state observed in the adult con- 
sciousness, both normal and abnormal, but that primary 
state of recognition out of which more definite recognition 
develops, then the contention may be admitted, but at the 
same time it must be declared as trivial. For it is obvious 
that a higher, more complex, and more definite state of 
recognition arises from one that is lower, less complex, and 
less definite. The sense of familiarity implies previous 
perception now dissociated, but subconsciously present and 
struggling up toward the surface of the upper conscious- 
ness to gain recognition. 

The sense of familiarity depends on the condition of 
incomplete or of imperfect association. This may range 
through different shades and stages. Should now the dis- 
sociation be complete, the sense of familiarity will be com- 
pletely absent. The object, though experienced, will be 
regarded as strange, as entirely new, and will be felt as 
something that has never been experienced before. The 
fault will lie here in the paucity of associations with rep- 
resentative elements. Where through some accident all the 
associations of representative elements are reduced to their 
minimum of functional relationship, the world of sensory 
experiences, the world of objects, will appear as to one 
newly born, a state found in the case of Mr. Hanna, an 
account of which is given farther on. 



CHAPTER IX 

NEURON ORGANIZATION AND MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

The investigations of Golgi, Cajal, and others point to 
the fact that the nerve-cell, especially that of the cortex 
of the higher forms of life, is an independent unit. The 
neurons form combinations of greater and greater com- 
plexity; the groups form systems, communities, constella- 
tions. These organizations of neurons are not of an 
anatomical, structural character, but of a purely func- 
tional relationship. The functional interrelation of neu- 
rons into more and more complex organization is con- 
comitant with the functional interrelation of elementary 
psychic units and systems. The functional interrelation of 
primary and secondary sensory elements as well as repre- 
sentative elements and systems runs parallel to the func- 
tional interrelation of neuron elements and systems. The 
individual mind may be regarded from this point of view as 
a complex system of many minds or, more strictly speaking, 
the psychophysiological individual may be viewed as an or- 
ganization of many subordinate individuals. As pointed out 
in a former work of mine : x "Every nerve-cell anatomically 
considered is a complete unit. The processes coming out 
from different nerve-cells do not fuse with processes com- 
ing out from other nerve-cells, but rather interlace and 
come in contact like the electrodes of a battery in forming 
the electric circuit. . . . The associations of nerve-cells is 
not organic, but functional. 

" Nerve-cells with concomitant psychic moment-con- 
tent come in contact with other nerve-cells, accompanied by 

1 Sidis, Psychology of Suggestion. 



NEURON ORGANIZATION 53 

psychic content, by means of their fine terminal processes. 
The association of cells forms a group whose physiological 
function has a concomitant mental activity. . . . By 
means of association fibres the groups are organized into 
systems, the systems into communities, the communities 
into clusters, the clusters into constellations, and each of 
the higher more complex aggregates is more feebly organ- 
ized by less stable association fibres." 

Now, if the constitution of the individual mind be 
made up of many subordinate individual minds, or of indi- 
viduals less complex in character, we may well conceive the 
formation of secondary individualities or of secondary per- 
sonalities in the various states of mental dissociation and 
degeneration. Under the influence of hurtful stimuli, be 
they toxic or traumatic in their nature, the first stages of 
functional degeneration may give rise to functional disso- 
ciations along different lines. Different individualities, 
often parasitic in character, may arise, develop and even 
stifle the primary personality. There may be as many 
different personalities, parasitic or secondary, as there are 
possible combinations and disaggregations of psychophysio- 
logical aggregates. There may, therefore, be different 
forms of secondary consciousness or of multiple personal- 
ity. They may be of a simultaneous character or one of 
alternation. The personalities may appear side by side, 
or they may appear alternately. The play of person- 
alities may be of a dramatic character, the characters and 
personalities appearing on the scene of consciousness like 
so many actors, the whole appearing as a play of many 
different persons. Such cases, however, occur after long 
training of the subconsciously formed personalities, so that 
they form and unform, appear and disappear from the 
scene of action, as if they were actual and not at all para- 
sitic, foam-like constituted individualities. When such 
dramatic personalities reach a high stage of development 
and come and go on the stage like actors impersonating 



54 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

various characters, according to the needs or inspiration 
of the moment, then with the great power of imitation and 
play they give themselves names, and for the sake of dra- 
matic play and sensation claim to be fully fledged persons 
simulating the living that have gone from this world. In 
the act of simulation they convey in their own fashion the 
fact that they are not living personalities, but still claim- 
ing existence, they place their being in another world, in 
the world of discarnate spirits. The truth of the being 
of the simulated quasi-personality is asserted in its own 
peculiar fashion. In its own way this transient trance 
personality reveals its real character, and it is all the more 
satisfied as the assertion is made in a dramatic, sensational 
form. 

The usual forms of multiple personality are those of 
alternation. Even in the simultaneous forms the order is 
really one of rapid alternation. The dramatic play of the 
personalities, in fact, requires such an alternation. The 
persons, fictitious or simulated ones, come and go, repro- 
ducing relations of persons in real life. The simultaneous 
presence of many personalities brings with it confusion, so 
that no more than two personalities enter into the simulated 
intercourse. The simplest way is to follow up cases in 
Which this dramatic play has not reached such a high state 
of development. There is an interval between the appearing 
personalities. Each one carries along with it its own mental 
continuity. Each individuality, like a person in real life, 
has its own character, its own memory. The mental sys- 
tems are independent in their function, their memories do 
not fuse, nor do they run into one another. Like actual 
persons in real life, persons whom they imitate and simu- 
late, they stand out independent. The personalities do 
not interpenetrate. There is an impassable gap between 
them. When one appears the other is absent, and often the 
life and memories of one are not known to the other. One 
personality may often enter into communication with the 



NEURON ORGANIZATION 55 

other. This is somewhat similar to what we find in real 
life, when different people try to get information of the 
life of their neighbors. It may, therefore, happen that some 
personalities may have information about their fellow per- 
sonalities, while the latter are ignorant of the life of the 
former ; in fact, they may not even know of their existence. 
But even in those cases where there is knowledge of the 
life of the fellow personality, the knowledge is not a direct 
one; it is entirely of an indirect character, as it is in the 
case of living persons ; one does not live directly the life of 
the other. They know of the life experience of the other 



Fig. 14. 

personalities by information. In reality, between the life 
of one and that of the other there is a clear gap. 

Let the concentric circles of A (Fig. 14) represent the 
widening successive beats of consciousness of each simulat- 
ing personality, and let A t represent that of another ; then 
from A to A t there is a gap. This gap may be one of deep 
unconsciousness or of a third state of consciousness with a 
vague relation or with no relation at all to either A or A ± . 

We may represent the periodical manifestations of the 
quasi-personality by a series of circles. Between each 
manifestation and the other there is a gap. Let A repre- 
sent one period of functioning activity and A 1 the next one, 
then between the two there is a gap, — a complete break. 



X 






f .' vV 

>.".'■ 



56 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

With the disappearance of A x , the first one, A, but 
with some modification, comes to the surface; we may 
term it Ab. The beginning of Ab connects itseli with the 
end of A. This is indicated by the arrow. With the cessa- 
tion of Ab, Aj, with some modification, say b 1} appears, the 
system being AJt^ ; this latter connects itself not with Ab, 
but with A x . We, therefore, may have a series of A, Ab, 
Ac, Ad, Ae, etc., with gaps, in the interstices of which 
there are other active states of another personality, consist- 
ing of a series, A t , A-Jo^ A^, A 1 d 1 , A x e x , etc. The former 




are synthetized into one personality, having its own life 
history, character, and memory, and so are also the latter. 
In such a case we have the phenomena of double personal- 
ity. A third, fourth, fifth, and more series may be inter- 
posed, and we may then have the phenomena of triple, 
quadruple, quintuple, — in short, the phenomena of multiple 
personality. 

It may again be that a dissociated system falls into the 
subconscious, and keeps on repeating itself in the form of 
independent states, but vaguely connected with the prin- 
cipal personality. This system may keep repeating itself, 
but may not reach the full stage of personality; it may 
be too elementary in its psychic content and type. Here, 
too, the lapse may be complete, and the manifested disso- 



NEURON ORGANIZATION 57 

ciated mental system appears in the gaps formed by the 
lapses of the principal personality. Here, again, the suc- 
cessive series of the principal personality present one 
continuity, while the successive series of the dissociated 
elementary system, A 1} are so many repetitions of the same 
state. 

Let A (Fig. 15) represent the main personality of the 
patient, B the next emergence after the break. From A to 
B there is a break in which the dissociated system, A x occu- 
pies the whole field of consciousness. Now the start of the 
nucleus of B is the last act of A. The same holds true 
in the case of B and C, C and D, and so on. As soon as the 
personality enters into its life activity it begins where 
it has left off, no matter how wide and deep the lapse or 
gap may have been. A fully developed personal system 
must have a continuous history. For continuity is one of 
the main attributes of personality. 



CHAPTER X 

PLURAL PERSONALITY 

The formation of many personalities, their dramatic 
play, their dissociation, new associations, interrelations, 
and sense of familiarity can possibly be best brought home 
to the reader by concrete examples from the vast domain of 
abnormal psychology. A number of cases representing 
different types of multiple personality are studied and 
analyzed farther on ; meanwhile, I think that a couple of 
cases will be sufficient for our purpose. The following re- 
markable case, studied by Dr. Morton Prince of Boston for 
a number of years, will probably best illustrate the meaning 
of multiple personality. 1 

" When Miss Beauchamp first came under observation 
she was a neurasthenic of a very severe type. She was a 
student in one of our colleges, and there received a very 
good education. But in consequence of her neurasthenic 
condition it was simply impossible for her to go on with 
her work. She was a wreck, I might say, in body. In 
temperament she is a person of extreme idealism, with a 
very morbid New England conscientiousness, and a great 
deal of pride and reserve, so that she is very unwilling 
to expose herself or her life to anybody's scrutiny. This 
has been one great difficulty in the study of her case. To 
this I would add that she is a person of absolute honesty 
of thought and speech. I feel sure we can rely upon and 
trust her absolutely and completely. I have never known 
her, nor has anyone, I believe, known her — as herself, or 
the person whom we call herself — in any way to indulge 

1 I am indebted to Dr. Prince for bis revision of this brief account. 
58 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 59 

in any deception. Nevertheless, every safeguard has been 
employed to guarantee the bona- fide character of the 
phenomena. 

" Now she came to see me in this neurasthenic state, 
but I found treatment was of almost no use. The usual 
methods were employed with no result, and it seemed as if 
her case was hopeless. Finally I concluded to try hypnotic 
suggestions. She proved a very good subject, and the sug- 
gestions produced at the time rather brilliant results. In 
hypnosis she went easily into the somnambulistic state. 
This somnambulistic state came later to be known as B. II., 
while the first personality with whom I became acquainted, 
Miss Beauchamp herself, was known as B. I. Now I used 
to notice that as B. II. she was continually rubbing her 
eyes; her hands were in constant motion, always trying to 
get at her eyes. Still I paid very little attention to it, or 
placed very little significance in this fact, merely attribut- 
ing it to nervousness. One day when I hypnotized her and 
referred to something that she had done in a previous hyp- 
notic state — that is to say, something that she had said or 
done in a previous state when I supposed she was B. II. — 
she denied all knowledge of it and said it was not so. This 
surprised me, and I attributed the denial at first to an 
attempt at deception. I waked her up and put her to 
sleep again, and this time she admitted what she had pre- 
viously denied. This rather puzzled me, and I made vari- 
ous tests to determine her honesty in the matter. The next 
time I hypnotized her she denied what she had previously 
admitted, and so it went on, denying and then admitting, 
until it dawned upon me that I was dealing with an en- 
tirely different personality, and this proved to be the case. 
It turned out that when she went into the state of which 
she later denied the facts, she was an entirely distinct and 
separate person. This third personality, which then devel- 
oped, came to be known as B. III. We had then three 
mental states, B. I., B. II., and B. III. 



60 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

" B. I. knew nothing of the others. B. II. knew B. I., 
but no more. B. III. knew both B. I. and B. II. Thus far 
there was nothing very unusual. 

" Now B. III. has proved to be one of the most inter- 
esting of all the personalities that have developed in the 
case. In one respect it is one of the most remarkable per- 
sonalities, I think, that has ever been exhibited in any of 
the cases of multiple personality, as will, I think, pres- 
ently appear. B. III., like B. II., was constantly rubbing 
her eyes, so that I was frequently compelled to hold her 
hands by force to prevent her from doing so. When asked 
why she did this, she said she wished to get her eyes 
open, and it turned out afterward that it was she who 
was rubbing the eyes of B. II. in the earlier times. At 
this time I prevented B. III. from opening her eyes for 
the reason that I feared that, if she got her eyes open 
and was thereby able to add the visual images of her 
surroundings to her mental life as B. III., these same 
images of her surroundings which she would also have, of 
course, when she was B. I., would by force of the associa- 
tion awaken all her mental associations as B. III., and that, 
in consequence, B. III. spontaneously would be constantly 
coming into existence of her own accord. This afterward 
proved to be the case. B. III. always insisted upon having 
her eyes opened, complaining that she wished to see, and 
had a 'right to see.' One day, some time after this, while 
she was at home, owing to some nervous excitement, she 
was thrown into the condition of B. III., and then, as I was 
not there to prevent it, she rubbed her eyes until she got 
them open, and from that time to this she (B. III.) has 
had a spontaneous and independent existence. 

" This personality dates her whole independent exist- 
ence from this day, and she always refers to events as 
being 'before' or 'after she got her eyes open.' That is 
the central event in her life, just as mothers date periods 
before or after the birth of a child. Now this personality 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 61 

came afterward to be known as Sally Beauchamp. (The 
name Beauchamp has been adopted in this account for all 
the personalities.) She took the name for fun one day, a 
name that she got out of some book, and by that name she 
has been known ever since. In character she differs very 
remarkably from B. I. I would say here that B. I. is a 
very serious-minded person, fond of books and study, of 
a religious turn of mind, and possesses a very morbid con- 
scientiousness. She has a great sense of responsibility in 
life, and with those who know her trouble is rather sad 
and depressed in consequence of the general difficul- 
ties and trials of her life. Sally, on the other hand, 
is full of fun, does not worry about anything; all life 
is one great joke to her; she hates books, loves fun 
and amusement, does not like serious things, hates church, — 
in fact, is thoroughly childlike in every way. She is 
a child of nature. She is not as well educated as is Miss 
Beauchamp, although she reads and writes English well ; 
yet she complains constantly that she cannot express her- 
self easily in writing, but she does it quite well all the 
same. She cannot read French or any of the foreign lan- 
guages which Miss Beauchamp knows, and she cannot 
write shorthand; in short, she lacks a great many of the 
educational accomplishments which the other character pos- 
sesses. She insists, although of this I have no absolute 
proof, that she never sleeps, and that she is always awake 
while Miss Beauchamp is asleep. I believe it to be true. 
Then Miss B. is a neurasthenic, Sally is perfectly well. She 
is never fatigued and never suffers pain. 

" During the first year Sally and Miss Beauchamp used 
to come and go alternating with one another. At first 
whenever B. I. became fatigued or upset from any cause, 
Sally was likely to come, the periods during which the lat- 
ter was in existence lasting from a few minutes to several 
hours. Later these periods became prolonged to several 
days. It must not be forgotten that though Miss Beau- 



62 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

champ knows nothing of Sally, Sally, when not in the flesh, 
is conscious of all Miss Beauchamp's thoughts and doings, 
and the latter could hide nothing from her. 

" Curiously enough, Sally took an intense dislike to B. I. 
She actually hated her. She used to say to me, 'Why, 
I hate her, Dr. Prince ! ' and there was no length to 
which Sally would not go to cause her annoyance. 
She would play every kind of prank upon her to make 
her miserable. She tormented her to a degree almost in- 
credible. While Sally would never do anything to make 
anyone else unhappy, she was absolutely remorseless in 
the way she tormented Miss Beauchamp by practical 
jokes and by playing upon her sensibilities. I will give 
a few illustrations. If there is one thing which Miss 
Beauchamp has a perfect horror of, it is snakes and spiders. 
They throw her into a condition of terror. One day Sally 
went out into the country and collected some snakes and 
spiders and put them into a little box. She brought them 
home and did them up in a little package, and addressed 
them to Miss Beauchamp, and when B. I. opened the pack- 
age they ran out and about the room and nearly sent her 
into fits. In order to get rid of them she had to handle 
them, which added to her terror. Another joke was to 
take Miss Beauchamp out into the country when she was 
very tired, and in an unfit condition to walk ; that is, Sally 
would take a car and go out six or seven miles into the 
country to some retired place, and there wake up Miss Beau- 
champ, who would find herself far out in the country with 
no means of getting home, no money in her pocket, and 
nothing for it but to walk. She had to beg rides when she 
could from passing wagons, and came back tired, worn out, 
used up for a week. 

"A great friend of Miss Beauchamp, to whom she was 
under strong obligations, had asked her to knit a baby's 
blanket. She worked on that blanket for nearly a year; as 
soon as it would near completion, Sally would unravel it, 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 63 

and then, like Sisyphus, she would have to begin the task 
again, only to have Sally pull the whole thing to pieces 
again. Finally she came to herself one day and found her- 
self standing in the middle of the room tied up in a perfect 
network and snarl of worsted yarn; the yarn was wound 
round the pictures and then round and round the furni- 
ture, the bed, the chairs, herself, obliging her to cut it 
to get out of the snarl. Another favorite joke of Sally's 
was to make Miss Beauchamp lie. She had the power when 
she pleased, of producing aboulia, and also of making B. I. 
say and do things against her will ; for after a fashion she 
can get control of her arms and legs, and also of her tongue. 

' ' Sally made her tell most frightful fibs. For instance, 
when asked who lived in a small squalid little house at the 
side of the road, she said 'Mrs. J. G.,' a very prominent 
lady in society, and very wealthy. 'Why, I thought she 
was rich!' 'Oh, yes, but she has lost all her money now.' 
Miss Beauchamp would be mortified at hearing herself tell 
these astounding barefaced fibs, which her listener must 
know were fibs, but she could not help it. Again, for a 
time at least, Sally put B. I. on an allowance of five cents a 
day. She would find the money waiting for her in the 
morning on the table with a note saying that it was her 
allowance for the day and she could not spend more. Sally 
took away her postage-stamps, and if Miss Beauchamp 
wrote a letter it had first to be exhibited to Sally, and if 
Sally approved it, it was posted; if not, it did not go, and 
that was the end of it. 

" Miss Beauchamp is a person with a great sense of 
dignity, and dislikes anything that smacks of a lack 
of decorum or of familiarity. Sally had a way of 
punishing her by making her sit on a chair with her feet 
upon the mantelpiece. B. I. could not take her feet down, 
and was mortified to think she had to sit that way. Sally 
carries on a correspondence with Miss Beauchamp, writes 
letters to her pointing out all the weak points of her charac- 



64 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

ter, dwelling on all the little slips and foibles of her mind, 
telling her all the reckless acts and secret thoughts, indeed, 
everything she has done that would not bear criticism. In 
fact;, when she has a chance to stick a pin into her, she does 
it. When Miss Beauchamp wakes in the morning, she may 
find pinned upon the wall of the room verses containing all 
sorts of personal allusions, letters calling her names, tell- 
ing fictitious things that people have said about her; in 
short, doing everything imaginable to make her life miser- 
able. Nevertheless, at times when she has gone too far, 
Sally has got frightened, and then she would write me a 
letter and ask for help, saying that she 'could not do any- 
thing with Miss Beauchamp,' and I 'really must help her.' 
"Although B. I. knows nothing of Sally, Sally not only 
is conscious of Miss Beauchamp 's thoughts at the moment 
they arise, but she is capable, as I have said, of controlling 
her thoughts and her arms and legs and tongue to a cer- 
tain extent. Sally can produce positive and negative hal- 
lucinations in B. I. and frequently does so for a practical 
joke. During the times when Sally is in existence, B. I. 
is — as Sally puts it — ' dead, ' and these times represent com- 
plete gaps in Miss Beauchamp 's memory, so that she has 
no knowledge of them whatever. ' What becomes of her ? ' 
Sally frequently asks. Sally is never 'dead.' Her mem- 
ory is continuous; there are no gaps in it. She not only 
knows — simultaneously, as I said — all of B. I.'s thoughts 
and emotions and sensations, but more than that ; — Sally 's 
thoughts are entirely distinct from and independent of B. 
I.'s thoughts, with which they are coexistent, but not iden- 
tical. B. I.'s thoughts are not Sally's thoughts. Sally's 
thoughts coexist alongside of and simultaneously with B. 
I. 's ; but Sally 's mental life is made up of entirely different 
and separate thoughts and feelings from B. I.'s, so that 
Sally will have a train of thought at the same time with 
B. I., of an entirely different nature. All this is also 
true of the relation of Sally's mind to the personality 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 65 

— B. IV. — who came later, excepting that Sally does not 
know B. IV. 's thoughts. While either Miss B. I. or IV. is 
thinking and feeling one thing — is depressed and self-re- 
proachful, for example — Sally is feeling gay and indiffer- 
ent and enjoying Miss B.'s discomfiture and perhaps plan- 
ning some amusement distasteful to her." 

Professor J. H. Hyslop gives me the following account 
of an interesting case of multiple personality, in which the 
parasitic " discarnate " personalities claim to come from 
' ' other worlds. ' ' 

" A little over three years ago an orthodox clergyman, 
whose real name I here conceal under that of Mr. Smead, 
wrote me that his wife had done considerable automatic 
writing with the planchette, and had received some appar- 
ently spiritistic communications, and that he wished I 
would investigate the identity of a certain person claiming 
to communicate, and who gave his name as Harrison 
Clarke. In the same letter Mr. Smead remarked that he 
had some matter purporting to be communications with 
reference to the planet Mars, resembling the work of 
Flournoy's case of Mile. Helene Smith. I requested the 
privilege of seeing this matter, and it was at once sent to 
me. I became sufficiently interested in the phenomena to 
pay Mr. Smead a visit to investigate the case. My first 
task was to convince myself that I was dealing with gen- 
uine phenomena of some kind, and this was done in various 
ways, besides ascertaining the standing and respectability 
of Mr. and Mrs. Smead. 

" Inquiries into the history of Mrs. Smead 's planchette 
writing showed that she had been familiar with the instru- 
ment since childhood. But nothing of a systematic character 
had been done or preserved until 1895, when some allusions 
were made in the writing to the planet Jupiter, which was 
described as the 'babies' ' heaven. Mr. and Mrs. Smead 
had lost two children stillborn, and one a few hours after 

birth, and Mr. Smead a brother some years earlier by a 
6 



66 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

railway accident. It was in the names of these personal- 
ities that the ' communications ' purported to come regard- 
ing planetary conditions. After the allusion to Jupiter, 
some inquiry was made as to whether any of the planets 
were inhabited, and the reply was that Mars was popu- 
lated. Soon afterward a map was drawn of this planet, 
representing a continent and the various zones on it. The 
names of these zones were given, and were ' Zentin ' (cold), 
' Zentinen ' (very cold), ' Dirntze ' (north temperate 
zone), ' Dirntzerin ' (south temperate zone), and 
' Emerincenren ' (Equator). This was followed by a dia- 
logue between Mr. Smead and the ' communicator,' in 
which it was said that the inhabitants of Mars were some- 
what like our Indians, and that some of them were civilized 
in certain respects. Allusion was also made to the ' ca- 
nals,' in the form of expression, ' the way they fix the 
water,' which was described as 'canals connecting the 
oceans. 

' ' At this point the experiments were interrupted for five 
years with exception of a few attempts, one of which was 
fairly recorded, and purported to be a ' communication ' 
from a deceased friend, of whose death Mr. and Mrs. Smead 
say they did not know until after the fact was written in 
connection with the planchette. In 1900, when the writ- 
ing was resumed, the Martian ' communications ' occupied 
most of the time given to the work for about three months, 
and were well developed and systematic, as if the interval 
had been employed by the subconsciousness in maturing 
what it had to say. A hieroglyphic language was invented 
by this agency, and said to represent the visible speech 
of the Martians. One of the first things done in the re- 
sumption of Martian messages was the drawing of a figure 
which was called a ' sea vessel,' and the writing of two 
words, ' Seretrevir ' and ' Cristririe.' The first of these 
words was said to mean ' sea vessel, ' and the latter its name. 
A curious feature of the incident, however, was the state- 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 67 

ment that the Martian ships were made of trees, and that 
the inhabitants of that planet did ' not use sawmills as 
we do.' Is this an association of Indian canoes cut out of 
trees with what was said five years previously about the 
Martian inhabitants being like our Indians? It certainly 
has this probability. 

" In the next experiment a curious figure was drawn, 
unrecognizable in itself, but which was explained to rep- 
resent a ' dog-house temple.' In the corners of the figure 
two animals were drawn which were meant to represent 
dogs, and which were said to give the name to the temple. 
Then the hieroglyphic characters were drawn, describing 
the temple by name, and then translated into English 
characters. They were ' Ti femo wahrhibivie timeviol,' 
meaning ' the dog-house temple,' the words taking the 
same order as in English. 

" At the same sitting the name of the lake, drawn five 
years earlier on the map, was given. It was ' Emervia.' 
Mr. Smead then asked for the Martian for ' the boy runs,' 
and received the reply that people do not run on Mars, but 
only walk. The Martian characters were then drawn for 
' the boy walks,' and were translated into English charac- 
ters, ' Ti inin amaravim. ' The form of thought was ex- 
plained to be ' the boy walking,' and not ' the boy walks.' 

" A number of Martian objects were drawn and de- 
scribed at various times, when at last a fine palace was 
drawn and described in detail. It had two divisions, 
with lawns and flower-plots in front and mountains behind. 
One part was gray stone and the other white. A few days 
later the ground-plan of the same palace was drawn, and 
then a curtain that was said to hang, possibly as a piece of 
tapestry, in it. The representation of this curtain was, in 
fact, a fine work of art. The details were all minutely 
described by the planchette. 

" Finally, a barrack was drawn, and said to be the 
building where Martians lived before marriage and while 



68 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

working in the fields. There were indications that the 
class thus provided for were aristocratic. It had been 
earlier stated that the members of this class were not 
allowed to vote at the election of rulers and legislators. 
The drawing of this barrack, however, was the last of the 
Martian ' communications.' If I could here give the de- 
tailed record of the Martian incidents, and the hieroglyphic 
language and sentences written out with the planchette, 
it would be apparent to the student that both represent a 
very systematic illustration of subconscious work. 

11 Without any warning or previous indication the 
Martian ' communications ' were interrupted by a new 
personality calling himself Harrison Clarke. He soon 
dropped the planchette and used the pencil. A special 
trait of this personality, not noticeable before appearance 
or after his disappearance, is his adeptness at tricks of 
writing. He shows about equal facility at inverted, mir- 
ror, and normal writing. The inverted writing is from 
right to left, and must be read upside down. The mirror 
writing must be read with a mirror. Mrs. Smead never 
in her life, at least so far as her memory goes, practised 
mirror or inverted writing, and yet these were produced by 
Harrison Clarke as easily as the normal type. But it was 
his biography that had the greatest interest. This was 
written out at various times and without regard to chrono- 
logical order, but reduced to this was as follows : 

" Harrison Clarke was born in a town that is now a 
part of Chicago, and at two years of age was brought to 
Albany, N. Y., where he was cared for, until grown, by an 
aunt. He came first to New York City, and went thence 
to Baltimore, where he worked in a store until, becoming 
engaged to a lady and finding it necessary to learn a trade, 
if he was to marry, he returned to New York and entered 
the office of the New York Herald as a type-setter. The 
death of his lady-love in the meantime led to his enlistment 
in the army, and he was in the last regiment that left New 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 69 

York City for the war, and was in the battle of Shiloh, 
where, one morning, after being ont all night with his 
comrade, he was discovered by rebel guards and shot. His 
lady-love, deceased, appeared to him as he was dying and 
told him that he was going with her, and on her consent 
that he might some time retnrn to tell of his survival after 
death, he agreed to die content. The generals on both 
sides and the date of the battle were correctly named. 

" Now, Mrs. Smead does not remember ever hearing of 
any person by the name of Harrison Clarke and also does 
not recall reading any account of that battle. The New 
York Herald authorities refused to permit investigation as 
to the employment of any such person as Harrison Clarke 
on their pay-rolls in 1861 and 1862, and the Directories of 
that city for several years show no such person. Inquiries 
at the war records in Washington showed that no Neiv 
York regiments were in the battle of Shiloh. They show 
that there was a Harrison Clark in the 125th Regiment of 
New York, but he was mustered out at the termination of 
the war in 1865, and at this writing is still living in Albany, 
N. Y. There was a Harrison Clark in one of the Illinois 
regiments that was in the battle of Shiloh, and he was 
also mustered out at the end of the war, and did not die 
until 1895. None of the facts fitted him, so far as could 
be ascertained. 

" As soon as I had determined these facts, and the im- 
possibility of treating this personality as anything but sub- 
conscious action of Mrs. Smead, I resolved to confront it 
with this story of the failure to prove identity. I intrusted 
the task to Mr. Smead with directions. At the first oppor- 
tunity Harrison Clarke was told of his imposture. He was 
embarrassed for an explanation at first, but at a half sug- 
gestion he took up the story that he had deserted the New 
York regiment and joined one under a different name that 
permitted him to be in the battle of Shiloh. But he re- 
fused to give the new name under which he enlisted. He 



70 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

was not to be entrapped. But later, evidently feeling 
doubtful about the impression he had made, he caused a 
vision to Mrs. Smead in which she saw him pointing out 
the 125th Regiment of New York marching through the 
streets of that city and the vacancy in the ninth line, as an 
evidence that he had been killed ! Here was quite indubi- 
table evidence that secondary personality was at the bot- 
tom of the whole affair, to say nothing of the evidence in 
the previous falsity of his story. 

" In the Martian ' communications ' there were fre- 
quent indications of ' messages ' from deceased friends of 
the Smeads, sometimes whole sittings being taken up with 
these. But when Harrison Clarke came in to control, in- 
truders of all sorts were absolutely excluded. When he 
found himself ridiculed for his spiritistic claims, the 
' communications ' took on the personality of deceased 
friends of the Smeads in most cases, and only a few in- 
stances of apparently verifiable cases of unknown persons. 
For a long period the ' communications ' purported to be 
from or about persons known to the Smeads, and to repre- 
sent incidents which, in most cases, were known to them. 
The spirit of fabrication was exorcised by the failure of 
Harrison Clarke to prove his reality. I can give no de- 
tailed account of these instances, as it would take me far 
beyond the limits of this paper even to summarize them. 
But the chief personality concerned was Sylvester Smead, 
the deceased brother of Mr. Smead. The chief interest 
attaching to this fact is the selective unity shown by Mrs. 
Smead 's subconsciousness in the choice of incidents to rep- 
resent discarnate reality, indicating a very large range of 
power of imitation." 

The Flournoy case of multiple personality with its con- 
trolling guide and subordinate personalities belongs to the 
same order of mental phenomena. The case is probably 
well known to the reader. I give here a brief account from 
a review made by Professor Joseph Jastrow. 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 71 

" The story is a complicated one. The medium in the 
narrative goes by the name of Helen Smith. Her father 
was a merchant, a Hungarian by birth, and is described as 
an active, enterprising, matter-of-fact man and a good 
linguist; though quite hostile to ' spiritualistic ' notions, 
he was gradually won over to them by his daughter's 
mediumship. Her mother, born in Geneva, has always 
been markedly predisposed to spiritualistic phenomena of 
all kinds, has had ' psychic experiences ' of her own, and 
is also involved as narrator or witness in several of the 
less clear and less credible phenomena of Helen's medium- 
ship, Helen herself is described as an attractive woman 
of about thirty years of age, intelligent and frank; she is 
of good physical and mental health, presents none of the 
recognizable stigmata of nervous instability, if we except 
a six-month period of general weakness, and her medium- 
istic tendencies; and resents strongly the imputation of 
being abnormal in any respect. At the age of fifteen she 
became an apprentice in a large business house and has 
earned her living as a trusted and capable employee. She 
has refused to allow any photograph of herself to accom- 
pany the volume, but has consented to its publication in 
spite of her radical disbelief in the explanations offered. 
During her girlhood she was given to day-dreaming, expe- 
rienced hallucinations and unusual warnings, and was, as 
she still is, of a highly sensitive, nervous, and imaginative 
temperament. She regarded herself as a strange and un- 
usual person, who was in a way out of place in the every- 
day existence about her, and she was ever ready, though 
often with fear and trembling, to perceive in* unusual hap- 
penings the confirmations of her imaginative creations. 
Adolescence brought about a consummation of many of 
these tendencies, in the way of more positive hallucinations, 
momentary lapses of consciousness and sporadic instances 
of automatic or ' somnambulic ' actions. M. Flournoy re- 
gards it as likely that these excursions in an unreal world 



72 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

and the tendencies to automatic expression would have dis- 
appeared normally and naturally amid the sterner real- 
ities of life (for this form of coquetting with castles in 
Spain and seriously mystic occupation with the less hum- 
drum world of one's imagination is not a rare trait of 
childhood), were it not for her introduction to the mani- 
festations of spiritualism. These became both rain and 
sunshine to the tender sprouts of her subconscious fancy 
and developed them into a tropical luxuriance of , auto- 
matic manifestations. Table turning and rapping out of 
messages she accomplished at once, while a slight sugges- 
tion on the part of the ' circle ' induced automatic writing 
and clairvoyant visions. These began early in 1892 and 
continued without any unusual features until the spring 
of 1895, when, partially under the incentive of the inter- 
ested and professional presence of M. Flournoy, the ' poly- 
morphous ' automatisms of Hindu and Martian blossomed 
forth. 

" Mile. Smith, in her present seances, enters into a 
trance, or rather into one of several forms of trance, the 
general reality of which is attested by physiological changes 
of breathing and attitude, by the presence of abnormalities 
of sensibility and movement, and by marked psychologic 
characteristics similar in every way to those of the hyp- 
notic trance. Her appreciation of her surroundings, her 
remembrance of her trance-doings on return to her normal 
state, vary in the several trances; several different imper- 
sonations or trance conditions may occur in the same 
sitting, and the most remarkable phenomena seem associ- 
ated with the deepest disturbance of consciousness. Her 
general guide or spirit-control is one ' Leopold, ' who enters 
partially into all her automatic ' cycles ' and into her daily 
life. She not rarely sees him, or hears his voice; he has 
indicated the whereabouts of hidden articles, warned her 
against impending disaster, prescribed remedies for the 
sick, and in particular directed Helen as to what she may 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 73 

and may not do both in ordinary worldly and in ' psychic ' 
situations. ' Leopold ' has been a great help and also 
something of a hindrance to the investigations. He alone 
is in touch with the subconscious strata of Helen's mental 
storehouse, and can by suitable suggestion be made to yield 
information which the normal Helen is unable to give; 
but at crucial points he too professes ignorance, and pro- 
nounces licet and non-Meet upon attempts to bring to light 
hidden sources of ' spirit-revealed ' knowledge. Now this 
factotum and mentor, Leopold, is really the disembodied 
spirit of Joseph Balsamo, better known as Count Caglios- 
tro, who departed this life with a somewhat shattered 
reputation in 1795. Leopold seems to personify Balsamo 
mainly when Helen passes into what M. Flournoy calls her 
' royal cycle,' in which she becomes Marie Antoinette and 
Balsamo her ' cher sorcier ' and devoted admirer. While 
the unfortunate queen seems in many ways the favorite 
character of Mile. Smith's automatic repertoire, and while 
she assumes the part with superb histrionic realism of atti- 
tude and manner ; and spends entire evenings as the queen, 
and partakes an actual dinner which she eats with royal 
appetite, entertaining her real, but to her transformed, 
guests, gracious to her favorites and queenly to all ; yet this 
is but the spontaneous exuberance of an imaginative crea- 
tion the materials for which are readily accessible to her 
normal self, and many details of which have been traced 
to an engraving accompanying Dumas 's account of Bal- 
samo. We shall, therefore, follow M. Flournoy to India 
and to Mars. 

" The Martian cycle seems to have sprouted from a 
chance suggestion of one of the sitters, a M. Lemaitre, that 
it would be interesting to know what was going on on the 
planet Mars, and the further elaboration of the topic after 
the manner of Flammarion. This notion, ' caught on the 
wing,' made a great impression on Mile. Smith's subcon- 
scious automatism, and in one of her subsequent clairvoy- 



74 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

ant visions she seems to be floating away into space and the 
table spells out ' Lemaitre, ca que tu desirais tant! ' and 
then she arrives at her destination which the table an- 
nounces to be Mars. At this same seance she also brought 
messages to an old lady from her dead son Alexis Mirel, 
who reappears in another incarnation on Mars as Esenale. 
Then come descriptions of Martian houses, scenery and 
peoples, of customs and doings, and a bit of its fauna and 
flora. These are all fanciful enough and are evidently de- 
signed to be as oddly different from terrestrial conditions 
as may be. There is an intermediate condition in which 
Mile. Smith can be induced to use pencil and brush and 
yet can receive by suggestion this visualized Martian 
scenery; in this way we have quite a collection of illustra- 
tions of things visible upon Mars. They are not particu- 
larly interesting. The landscapes and houses are rather 
Japanese, or vaguely oriental; the occasional specimens of 
a plant and animal are unusual combinations of familiar 
vegetable and animal qualities, not nearly so droll as those 
of Edward Lear. The one really remarkable feature of the 
Martian epos came only after a long period of incubation 
or subliminal preparation; this was the Martian language. 
In its fullest development it included the hearing of words 
in this strange tongue, speaking it, seeing it visualized 
in space and, best of all, writing it when the medium was 
completely entranced and personating a Martian. How- 
ever, none of these processes ever appeared as fluent, exten- 
sive or completely spontaneous; yet we have short but 
significant and consistent messages in a wholly fictitious and 
strange-looking alphabet. Here is one of the messages 
reduced to Roman characters, and its French equivalent: 

" ' Astane bounie ze buzi ti di trine nami ni ti di umeze 

se i" mire bi tarvini, 
" ' Astane cherche le moyen de te parler beaucoup et de te 

faire comprendre son langage.' 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 75 

" But how is the French equivalent known 1 ? Through 
Leopold, who vouchsafed a talismanic word and procedure 
by which the entranced medium could be induced to trans- 
late. The messages do not transcend the familiar medi- 
ocrity of spiritualistic circles, but their form is certainly 
a marvellous example of subliminal creative imagination, 
if we are willing with M. Flournoy to accept them as such. 
M. Flournoy 's analysis of the language is most minute, 
and he pronounces it an ' infantile ' production modelled 
closely after the French, the only language which Mile. 
Smith knows. Its syntax and the arrangement of words 
are absolutely identical with those of French; the vocabu- 
lary is made as bizzare as may be, but it is possible in 
many cases to recognize the source of the invention. In 
brief, the noteworthy point is the holding in mind of the 
visual signs and the phonetic equivalent of these signs, 
and of their combination into words, at least sufficiently 
to hear, see and write brief messages; the imaginary Mar- 
tian setting and corroborative, ' details added to give veri- 
similitude to an otherwise improbable tale,' are creditable 
to a subordinate personality, but they do not arouse the 
admiration evoked by the auditory and visual memory 
feats. 

" The Hindu cycle is even more complicated, and its 
element of mystery remains as yet an unsolved problem. 
In this, Mile. Smith appears as the daughter of an Arab 
sheik, whom she leaves to become, under the name of 
Simandini, the eleventh wife of Prince Sivrouka Nayaca, 
whose present incarnation is none other than M. Flournoy 
himself. This Sivrouka reigned over Kanara and built in 
1401 the fortress of Tchandraguiri. Other characters are 
a faithful servant Adel, a small ape Mitidja and a fakir 
Kanga, who is no other than the Astane of the Martian 
world. Upon this foundation there is again elaborated a 
complex drama too intricate to be here unfolded. ' ' 

These cases may serve as good illustrations of the possi- 



76 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

ble disaggregations and new aggregations of the mental sys- 
tems that go to make up the warp and woof of human per- 
sonality. Of course it remains yet to be shown how much 
of these phenomena is artificially induced and how much 
of this play is really spontaneous. In either case, however, 
the fact of plural personalities stands out clear and dis- 
tinct. Training no doubt counts a good deal, but this in 
itself is insufficient to account for the independent personal- 
ities with their own characteristic traits, intellectual and 
moral, and with their own trains of memories impenetrable 
to all other personalities, persisting in their existence once 
formed, persistently refusing to be merged into any of 
the other personalities, and resisting all efforts at fusion. 
The life experience of the different personalities as well 
as their memories are so distinct that the information they 
get as to the life and experience of their neighbors is en- 
tirely of an indirect character. At the same time a closer 
examination of the cases reveals the fact that the per- 
sonalities, in spite of their apparent independence, have 
a good deal in common. Different as the mental systems 
are, they have a good many common constituent mental 
groups. 

Taken as examples of many others, these eases fairly 
illustrate the meaning of what is usually understood by 
the term multiple personality. In a broad sense we may say 
that tracts of consciousness separated by gaps, by breaks, 
which for the time being cannot be bridged over or united 
to form a continuity, are regarded as so many different 
personalities. A tract of consciousness may be affected 
through some shock, or through the influence of toxic or 
auto-toxic stimuli acting on the associations of the psycho- 
physiological systems, bringing about dissociations and im- 
passable gaps, so to say, in the mental continuity. If these 
dissociations run in many different directions, the phenom- 
ena of multiple consciousness, or what is the same, of multi- 
ple personality, are the inevitable result. When the old per- 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 77 

sonality becomes disrupted by the hurtful stimuli into small- 
er and more contracted individualities, the fragments may 
under certain conditions, such as trance states and hypno- 
sis, be again unified into the complete old personality. 
The content, however, in all these fragmentary personali- 
ties remains unchanged, — they are chips of the old block, 
and as such may be regarded as mere contractions of the old 
personality. 

According to some psychologists, the new personality 
is identical with the old personality contracted along 
different lines. Such contractions of personality with ex- 
pansions in other directions, reminding one of the pro- 
toplasmic amoeboid contractions and expansions as adap- 
tations in response to stimuli coming from the external 
environment, are by no means the exception; in fact, they 
are rather the rule. All along the course of one's life 
the stock of memories at the direct disposal of the personal 
consciousness keeps on contracting in some directions and 
expanding in others. Many memories drop out while 
others come in. How much do we remember of our in- 
fancy, childhood, boyhood, youth and even of our early 
manhood"? There are leaks, breaks, gaps and losses in all 
directions. The perspective of our life history becomes 
shortened and contracted as our life journey lasts. On the 
other hand, the prospective into the future often expands 
beyond justifiable bounds. The content of personality 
keeps on changing, but we are hardly justified to designate 
phenomena of this order as multiple personality or as the 
formation of new personalities. No new personality is 
really formed. The whole process is simply a matter of am 
nesia. From a certain stand-point this view is quite legit' 
mate. Looked at from the stand-point of the old personality 
all these lacks, losses and lapses of personality are simply 
so many contractions of individuality, so many lapses of 
memory. 

The fact that the dissociated tracts of consciousness 



78 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

cannot be bridged over, and what happens in one field 
of consciousness cannot become the possession of the neigh- 
boring field, though all of them intensely conscious ; the fact 
that each dissociated mental aggregate has its own chains 
of memories which do not fuse with that of the other aggre- 
gate, and that, moreover, in the intervals of its inactivity, 
or when in the periods of its activity, it does not attach itself 
to the dominant functioning system, but picks up the chain 
of memories precisely at the point where it had dropped 
it, all these facts point to the presence of an independent 
personality. Moreover, under certain conditions, such as 
trance or hypnosis, these dissociated tracts of consciousness 
can be made to reveal their experiences, their memories, in 
fact, the whole of their content. While the dominant per- 
sonal system is active, the secondary personality may some- 
times know and sometimes be ignorant of what is happen- 
ing to the other, but the two always regard one another 
objectively as strangers. Can we quite say that this is the 
experience of ordinary life? Is it a matter of every-day 
experience that our detached forgotten memories become 
active and set up housekeeping on their own behalf? Are 
not all these characteristics rather descriptive of what we 
mean by persons? Is it not in greater accordance with 
facts to describe phenomena of this order in terms of per- 
sonal consciousness? 

It is true that from the stand-point of loss of content 
the phenomena under discussion fall into the category of 
amnesia, but this is too general a classification. Multiple 
personality, no doubt, is a form of amnesia, but amnesia is 
i- I tfc multiple personality. Multiple personality is a species 
i_ \ a amnesia, and as such it has its own differentia. Amnesia 
t I i loss of content, but multiple personality is a lost con- 
sent that has become an independent centre of activity 
with a history and continuity of its own, definitely — one 
may say absolutely — demarcated from the main conscious- 
ness and from all other neighboring centres of activity. A 



PLURAL PERSONALITY 79 

centre of activity with minimum of content may be 
termed a personal moment-consciousness. 1 

At the same time we may regard the phenomena de- 
scribed as double or multiple personality from the point 
of view of loss of content, from the stand-point of simple 
amnesia. Amnesia may range from the simplest forms to 
the most complex. All the forms of amnesia may be ar- 
ranged in an ascending series beginning from the simplest 
aphasias, where auditory or visual or other psychic ele- 
ments are lost, passing through cases where more and more 
complex systems of elements are involved, where names, 
visual images of objects are gone, passing then to the loss 
of definite events of life, and finally ending with the drop- 
ping out of whole tracts of mental life covering minutes, 
days, weeks, months, years and even a whole lifetime. It 
is at this extreme end that the Hanna case finds its place, 
inasmuch as it represents the loss of a whole lifetime. 
Most of the cases current in literature are incomplete; in 
so far as the amnesia is but partial, only portions of the 
mental content are lost, while the Hanna case gives the 
first record of a complete loss of a lifetime from early in- 
fancy up to the moment of the accident. The only case 
in literature that somewhat resembles it, though incom- 
pletely, is that of Mary Reynolds. As the case is nearly 
a century old and has been found by Dr. Weir Mitchell 
among his father's papers — the account being written a 
number of years later after the original occurrence by a 
nephew of Mary Reynolds for Professor Archibald Alex- 
ander, who gave it to Professor John K. Mitchell, the father 
of Weir Mitchell — one must keep in mind the indirect 
sources, the many hands it has passed through and the 
indirect second-hand evidence. The Hanna case, being 
under direct observation and experimentation, stands alone 

1 The moments may be of different types, from the lowest to the 
highest. See Sidis, Psychology of Suggestion. This subject will be fully 
developed in a later work, Principles of Psychology and Psychopathology. 



80 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

at the extreme end of the amnesia series as far as content 
itself is concerned. It has, moreover, all the traits character- 
istic of the phenomena of dissociation known under the 
name of double consciousness or multiple personality. 



PART II 

DOUBLE PERSONALITY, OR THE 

HANNA CASE 



By BORIS SIDIS and S. P. GOODHART 



PART II 
DOUBLE PERSONALITY, OR THE HANNA CASE 

By Boris Sidis and S. P. Goodhart 



CHAPTER I 

ASPECTS OF THE HANNA CASE 

Before presenting the case to the reader we intend to 
say a few words by way of introduction. "We think it of 
importance to point out the distinguishing features of the 
case. In the study of the phenomena of multiple person- 
ality we get a glimpse into the nature of the highest product 
of evolution, namely, human personality. From the facts 
of variation from what we regard as the normal we can 
form an idea of the complexity of the human self. Per- 
sonality is but relatively a unity, it is really a complexity 
of many subordinate units. As pointed out in the previous 
chapters, the human mind is not a simple entity, but is, 
correlatively with physiological processes, a complexity of 
mental states. In analogy with the anatomical struct- 
ure of neuron systems, the self is a complexity of many 
systems of systems, of what may be termed moments-con- 
sciousness. Human personality, in short, can appear under 
various aspects, can become divided and subdivided into 
many personalities of various degrees of intelligence, as 
can be found in the induced states of hypnosis, such as 
personality-metamorphosis, in the various changes of per- 
sonality observed in spontaneous cases under the disin- 

83 



84 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tegrating influence of hurtful stimuli. Human personality 
can become crystallized into many different forms and can 
again be broken up into many subordinate units, which in 
their turn may become formed and re-formed, giving rise 
to a number of various personalities of a secondary char- 
acter. These secondary personalities may coexist or alter- 
nate with the principal personality. 

Alteration of personality is the most usual relation. 
With the manifestation of one personality the other dis- 
appears. Now it can be demonstrated by different methods, 
as it has been done in the Hanna case, that personalities 
which for the time being seem to disappear from the 
sphere of mental activity are really present- subconsciously. 
Still, for all intents and purposes, they may be regarded 
as absent from the consciousness which is in active rela- 
tion with the external environment. 

/Not being in direct relations with the external environ- 
ment, the whole psychic content, the whole mass of associa- 
tions remains unmodified. When now these dissociated 
systems of consciousness are stimulated to activity by 
various agencies, whether accidental or artificial, the 
mass reacts in the same way. The more often, however, 
the dissociated systems are brought into activity, the 
more often they are acted upon by different stimuli and 
made to react by their masses of psychomotor associations, 
the more frequently they become adapted to various ex- 
ternal conditions, to various environments, the more modi- 
fied does the content of the systems become. The mass of 
psychomotor associations gradually changes and there are 
more chances to draw the dissociated systems into the active 
primary consciousness standing in direct relation with the 
external environment. It is, therefore, of the utmost im- 
portance, in the case of functionally dissociated systems 
subconsciously present, to stimulate them as often as 
possible and draw them from their inactive obscurity to 
the upper regions of daylight consciousness ; to bring them 



THE HANNA CASE 85 

into direct relations with the conditions of the external 
environment, and thus finally to effect an association with 
the primary functioning systems, or with what is regarded 
as the normal personality. 

The unchangeability of the psychic content belonging 
to dissociated mental systems subconsciously present, as 
well as the principle of frequent stimulations by various 
agencies, physiological and psychological, under different 
conditions, are of great interest, both from a theoretical and 
practical stand-point. We have the possibility of running 
together and associating the disjointed portions of con- 
sciousness. This is precisely what has been done in the 
Hanna case, in which the association has been effectively 
established. 

To be sure, the association is not effected by means 
of the principle of stimulation alone. We must also 
utilize the intermediary states which are of importance 
in mental alternation. In. passing from the primary 
to the secondary personality there is an intervening period 
which is represented by a state of low moment-conscious- "^ 
ness. This period varies in duration. Now it is not only 
the dissociated secondary states, but also the intermediary 
states that need be stimulated and often brought to the 
surface of consciousness in order to effect an association. 

Cases of double consciousness are by no means abundant 
in the literature of abnormal psychology, but still rarer 
are the cases where the dissociation is so complete as to 
produce an amnesia so profound that the loss of mental con- 
tent is so extensive as to have the patient revert to a state 
of infancy — to a state of a new-born baby — as it has oc- 
curred in the Hanna case. So rare are such cases of total 
amnesia that Janet, a man of such wide experience, tells 
us in his discussion of the Mary Reynolds case — a case 
which has been copied from book to book and which has 
circulated in literature for over a century — that he him- 
self has not had the favorable opportunity of observing 



86 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

cases of total amnesia such as presented by Mary Reynolds. 
Until now the Mary Reynolds case has been the only case 
of complete double consciousness on record. It is certainly 
unfortunate that it has been drawn from second-hand 
sources. The Hanna case, described in the succeeding 
chapters, may be regarded as the first case of complete 
amnesia and double consciousness which has been under 
direct personal observation as well as under experimental 
control. 

There is, moreover, another important feature to which 
we want to draw the reader's attention. In the cases of 
double or multiple personality which have been reported 
in literature the mental wound formed has not been 
healed. The mental gap that separates the different per- 
sonalities is not bridged over. In the interesting and 
possibly best observed case of double consciousness in- 
vestigated by Professor James, namely, the Ansel Bourne 
case, the two dissociated personalities, primary and sec- 
ondary, could not be run into one. " I had hoped," 
writes Professor James, " by suggestion, etc., to run the 
two personalities into one and make the memories continu- 
ous; but no artifice would avail to accomplish this, and 
Mr. Bourne's skull to-day still covers two distinct per- 
sonal selves." This holds true in other cases of the same 
type. In the Hanna case, which may be regarded as the 
classical type of total amnesia and double consciousness, 
the gap separating the dissociated mental systems has 
been bridged over and the two personal selves have become 
synthetized into one personality. This synthesis is not 
only of practical importance, on account of the complete 
cure that has been effected, but is also theoretically of 
great value. It demonstrates the composite character of 
human personality. " Observation," says Ribot, " does 
not show that this chasm is ever bridged by direct recollec- 
tion. Thus two o appositions are possible : either the regis- 
tration of anteriox states is effaced, or the conservation of 



THE HANNA CASE 87 

anterior states persisting, their power of revivification by- 
association with the present is destroyed. It is impossible 
to decide arbitrarily between these two hypotheses." In 
the light of the experimental work and results obtained 
in the Hanna case the decision must be in favor of the 
theory of subconscious persistence of the apparently lost 
memories. The two personalities are but functionally dis- 
sociated and can by various methods be brought together, 
"the chasm can be bridged by direct recollection," as it has 
been effected in the Hanna case. 

The deepest interest of the case lies in the fact of com- 
plete dissociation and total loss of mental content up to 
the time of the accident. The dissociation observed in the 
cases of double or multiple consciousness is partial in char- 
acter, the patient having lost but a portion of his life ex- 
perience. This loss, as it has been pointed out before, may 
cover a period of a few hours to several years; or it may 
affect the whole of the patient's life experience, involving 
not only the associations of his social relationships, such 
as the recognition of his family, of his friends, acquaint- 
ances and all his relations with them, but it may also in- 
volve his automatic psychomotor activities as well as habits 
and even his perceptual activity. In nearly all the cases 
of double or multiple consciousness the patient's most 
fundamental associations are preserved; they appreciate 
time, know spatial relations ; they can walk, run and handle 
objects, know how to dress, to eat, know the use of objects 
of every-day life experience ; they, moreover, can talk, can 
understand speech and they rarely lose the knowledge of 
reading and writing. Not so was it in the case of Mr. 
Hanna; not only was the knowledge of his social relation- 
ship gone, but all his automatic, instinctive and habitual 
psychomotor reactions in response to stimuli coming from 
the external environment, all were swept away by the catas- 
trophe of the accident. He was an infant, a baby newly 
born, or like a visitor coming from another world. He knew 



88 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

neither objects, nor space, nor time; knew no speech; 
neither could he understand the meaning of gestures; he 
knew nothing of food, nor did he understand the manner 
of feeding; he could not walk, nor could he grasp objects, 
nor adjust himself to the perception of size, volume and 
distance. In short, the case is one of total loss of memory. 
Mr. Hanna was like an infant that had just opened his 
eyes to the light of day. In fact, after he had acquired 
some knowledge, he was for some time under the impression 




Fig. 16. — Normal mental content. 

that people come into the world fully grown, like himself. 
It is from the little ones that he has learned the course of 
growth in this world. 

The Hanna case, then, presents a complete obliteration 
of all psychomotor acquisitions, and as such may be re- 
garded as a case of what may be technically termed total 
amnesia. A graphic representation of the various forms 
of loss of memory, or of amnesia, in relation to this point 
will perhaps best bring home to the reader, at a glance, so 
to say, the depth and extent of dissociation observed in the 




Fig. 17. — Partial loss of conscious content 

Hanna case as compared with other cases of the same type 
of double and multiple personality less complete in the 
character of the dissociated content. 



THE HANNA CASE 89 

Let AA U BB X , and CC^ represent the habitual, auto- 
matic, instinctive, and subconscious reactions of the patient's 
life. Let the area of curve E represent his fully conscious 
activity of his social relationship ; then, under the influence 
of hurtful stimuli, the E content may be affected. The loss 
may be represented by shaded lines of a portion of the 
total area of E, according to the depth and extent of 
the loss. 

Now in the Hanna case the loss went far deeper; not 




Fig. 18. — Total loss of conscious content. 

only the curve E but also the AA lf BB X , CC l7 portions 
became involved. 

The Hanna case is of special value, if only from the 
stand-point of the possible morphological and functional 
modifications that may take place in the personal self. 
The study of the case is also of interest, if we compare the 
mode of re-education of such cases of total amnesia, or of 
"adult infants," so to say, with what is observed in the 



Fig. 19. — Total loss of conscious and subconscious content. 

gradual development of infant life. We may compare the 
re-education of Mr. Hanna in the secondary state with the 
acquisition by children of psychomotor reactions and asso- 



90 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

ciations in response to the stimulations of the external en- 
vironment and their adaptations to the external objects of 
their little world. We can see reflected in this strange 
case of Mr. Hanna the growth and development of spatial 
and temporal associations and reactions observed in infants 
— their learning to walk, to talk and their acquisition of 
knowledge and adaptations by imitation. It is also of 
interest in comparison with the learning of estimation 
of spatial relationship in the case of the blind operated for 
cataract of the eye, and in the case of the education of the 
blind, deaf and dumb, such as that of Laura Bridgman 
and Helen Keller. 

"We must, however, keep in mind the fact that in cases 
of functional dissociation, as presented by double and mul- 
tiple personality or in total amnesia, such as the Hanna 
case, the relation to child development and education of 
the defectives is but analogous. In the defectives and in 
children the psychic content is absent, while in the func- 
tional cases the content is really not absent, but present 
subconsciously. 



CHAPTER II 

THE BIRTH OF THE NEW PERSONALITY 

About seven o'clock in the evening of April 15, 1897, 
Rev. Thomas Carson Hanna, while returning home in his 
carriage from the town of M., attempted to alight in order 
to adjust the harness, lost his footing and fell to the ground 
head foremost. He was picked up in a state of uncon- 
sciousness by his brother, who, for some minutes, vainly 
endeavored to restore him. His eyelids were closed and his 
breathing was faint. Not the slightest movement was 
noticeable, and, but for the feeble respiration, life seemed 
extinct. 

Mr. Hanna was removed to the house of a friend and 
medical aid summoned. For a period of about two hours 
he lay in an unconscious state. Three attending physicians 
regarded life as almost extinct and heroic means of restora- 
tion were adopted. Large doses of strychnine were hypo- 
dermically injected. Although no time was lost in specula- 
tive diagnosis, the probability of a most serious organic 
lesion was determined upon. 

Finally Mr. Hanna began to move, then opened his 
eyes, looked around, moved his arm, then sat upright in 
bed, arose, reached toward one of the physicians and at- 
tempted to push him. Thinking the patient in a state of 
delirium, and fearing an attack, they seized him and at- 
tempted to push him back upon the bed. Mr. Hanna 
resisted vigorously and a struggle ensued, in which the 
three physicians were considerably worsted. The Rev. Mr. 
Hanna is normally a strong man, but on this occasion his 
strength seemed herculean. He was finally overpowered, 

91 



92 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

securely bound with straps and placed in bed. He lay 
perfectly quiet and made no attempts to release himself. 

At the suggestion of a newcomer, Mr. C, the straps 
were removed. The patient remained quiet and made no 
further attempt to rise. 

Although Mr. Hanna's eyes were open and clear and 
he was looking about him in an apparently curious and 
inquisitive way, when spoken to he did not understand the 
meaning of the words. It was not only that he had lost 
the faculty of speech so that he could not answer the in- 
terrogations put to him, but he had also lost all power of 
recognition of objects, words and persons. He was in a 
state of complete mental blindness. 

Although the functions of the sense-organs remained 
intact and the peripheral sensory processes remained 
normal, so that he experienced all the sensations awakened 
by external stimuli, yet there was a loss of all mental 
recognition and of interpretation of incoming sensations; 
all recognition of the external world was lost. Stimuli 
from without acted upon his sense-organs, gave rise to 
sensations, but perceptions and conceptions were entirely 
absent. The man was mentally blind. He could feel, but 
could not understand. He was as a newly born infant 
opening his eyes for the first time upon the world. 

The world was to Mr. Hanna but a chaos of sensations, 
not as yet elaborated and differentiated into a system of 
distinct percepts and concepts; neither objects, nor space, 
nor time, in the form as they are presented to the developed 
adult mind, existed for him. So totally obliterated from 
memory were the experiences of his past life that even 
the requirements of the simplest mental processes by waich 
the appreciation of distance, form, size, magnitude is ac- 
quired, were effaced from his mind. 

Movement alone attracted his attention. He did not 
know the cause and meaning of movement, but a moving 
object fastened his involuntary attention and seemed to 



BIRTH OF NEW PERSONALITY 93 

fascinate his gaze. He made as yet no discrimination be- 
tween his own movements and those of other objects, and 
was as much interested in the movement of his own limbs 
as in that of external things. He did not know how to 
control his voluntary muscles, nor had he any idea of the 
possibility of such a control. 

From the more or less involuntary, chance movements 
made by his arms and legs, he learned the possibility of 
controlling his limbs. The full voluntary power over his 
muscles he only learned from instructions by others. He 
could not co-ordinate the movements of his legs, hence he 
could not walk. 

Unable to discriminate between his own activity and that 
of others, the world was not as yet differentiated into the 
objective and subjective, and he had no idea of ego activity. 
Movements had for him no differential coefficient — all were 
alike to him. The three dimensions, length, width and 
depth, were as yet not appreciated; they really did not 
exist for him. 

Although impressions were received by his sense-organs, 
still the only sensations prominent in his mind were dark- 
ness, light and color. Everything was close to his eyes, — 
objects near and far seemed equally distant. 

He did not have the least conception of the flow of time, 
— seconds, minutes, hours were alike to him. His knowl- 
edge and adaptations to environment were so completely 
obliterated that, like an infant, he most unceremoniously re- 
sponded to the calls of nature. 

The sensation of hunger, though present in all its 
intensity, as we afterward learned, could not be interpreted 
by him, and he certainly did not know how to appease it. 
When food was offered him he did not understand the pur- 
pose of it ; nor when it was placed within his mouth did he 
know how to masticate and swallow it. In order to feed 
him, fluid nourishment had to be placed far back into the 
pharynx, thus provoking reflex swallowing movements. 



94 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

The sensation of hunger awakened in him an indefinite feel- 
ing of discomfort which he could not comprehend or in- 
telligently express. When food was offered to him he made 
no effort to receive it; when placed within his reach, he 
did not endeavor to chew, or swallow it. This seeming 
rejection of food led the attendants to believe that the 
patient had no desire to eat. It was only when food was 
forced upon him and thrust far back into the pharynx and 
reflex swallowing movements excited, accompanied by 
relief of his restlessness, it became evident that he was 
really hungry. It was in this way that Mr. Hanna for the 
first time realized the purpose of food and learned the 
wav of taking it. 



CHAPTER III 

EDUCATION AND GKOWTH OP THE NEW PERSONALITY 

Like an infant, he did not know the meaning of the 
simplest words, nor did he understand the use of language. 
Imitation was the factor in his first education. He learned 
the meaning of words by imitating definite articulate 
sounds made in connection with certain objects and activi- 
ties. The pronunciation of words and their combination 
into whole phrases he acquired in the same imitative way. 
At first, he simply repeated any word and sentence heard, 
thinking that this meant something to others. This manner 
of blind repetition and unintelligent imitation was, how- 
ever, soon given up, and he began systematically to learn 
the meaning of words in connection with the objective con- 
tent they signified. As in the case of children who, in 
their early developmental stage, use one word to indicate 
many objects entirely different in their nature, but having 
some common point of superficial resemblance, so was it 
in the case of Mr. Hanna: the first word he acquired was 
used by him to indicate all the objects he wanted. 

It goes without saying that the very first objects for 
which he felt the most intense interest were those that had 
relations to the elementary and at the same time indis- 
pensable sensation for the maintenance of life, namely, 
hunger. Words denoting articles of food were the first he 
acquired for the purposes of intercommunication with his 
environment. 

The first word he learned to know and to repeat was 
"apple." An apple was given to the patient when he was 

95 



96 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

hungry and the attendant, pointing to the fruit, pro- 
nounced the word "apple" several times with great em- 
phasis. The patient repeated "apple, apple," but did not 
grasp the import of the word as relating to this one par- 
ticular object. To him "apple" was in a vague way asso- 
ciated with hunger and craving for food. When later he 
again became hungry, he called for ' ' apple, ' ' but when the 
fruit was brought to him he rejected it in disgust. He 
wanted some of the other articles of food or dainties that 
had been given to him, but which were not ' ' apple. ' ' This 
apparent contradiction was taken by those about him as 
signs indicating capriciousness and perhaps mental de- 
rangement. On several occasions the unfortunate young 
man was obliged to remain without food, since instead of 
the dainties craved for, the undesirable "apple" was con- 
stantly thrust before him. He was disgusted at incessant 
reappearance of the same fruit. 

At first Mr. Hanna had no idea that there were terms 
for all classes of objects; he did not know abstract and 
universal terms. He could not understand the use of words 
denoting quality such as "whiteness." 

He had no idea of words having a universal significance, 
such as food, fruit, etc. He learned only the names of 
particular objects. He did not seem to learn words of uni- 
versal import, words which would have been of far greater 
use to him. " When they had given me three or four 
things, ' ' he told us afterward, ' ' I began to think there were 
other things to eat, too, and I wanted to learn the names 
of all those things. If I had only known the word 'food' 
or 'eat' or any of those words." 

Although Mr. Hanna was mentally blind and had lost 
all knowledge formerly possessed, both in relation to the 
external and internal world; although he was mentally re- 
duced to a state of infancy, strange to say, his intelligence 
remained intact. His curiosity for acquiring knowledge was 
keener than ever, and the use made of his acquisitions was 



GROWTH OF NEW PERSONALITY 97 

truly astonishing. His faculty of judgment, his power of 
reasoning were as sound and vigorous as ever. The content 
of knowledge seemed to have been lost, but . the form of 
knowledge remained as active as before the accident and 
was perhaps even more precise and definite. 

It is difficult to comprehend how a case of such a nature 
could possibly occur, and indeed it almost appears to be 
miraculous, but, as the reader will see from our further 
discussion, such a case may be readily analyzed and ex- 
plained. 

Among his earliest experiences was that of noting means 
of communication between persons. He was greatly inter- 
ested in the fact that in response to uttered sounds certain 
actions were performed by others. He attempted to obtain 
similar results by uttering meaningless sounds and gibber- 
ish. The young man finally came to the conclusion that 
definite sounds brought about definite actions, and he be- 
came more eager to learn them. His knowledge was gained 
by the endeavors of those about him who constantly tried 
by objective demonstration and explanation of words to 
assist him in his eager efforts to learn. He was very anxious 
to gain the knowledge of language necessary for communi- 
cating his wishes and expressing his wants to others. His 
desire to acquire the use of words and phrases was based 
principally upon his observation that those about him, by 
making movements of the lips and producing sounds, 
elicited from others certain responses which were frequent- 
ly followed by definite actions. 

Finally Mr. Hanna in a very short time acquired a 
number of words sufficient to express his wants to others, 
and he made the best use of his limited vocabulary. A word 
once heard seemed indelibly impressed upon his mind, and 
he never again forgot it. It was really surprising to find 
a man starting in life with absolutely no vocabulary, with 
no means of communication and with no mental material, 
acquiring in the course of a short period a familiarity with 



98 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

language sufficient for carrying on intercourse with 
others, and with powers of imitation so keen as to enable 
him to follow correct grammatical forms. 

Mr. Hanna made no errors in pronunciation; used the 
tenses correctly, and in forming sentences combined the 
words in their proper order. He had great difficulty in the 
acquisition of the use of adjectives and abstract nouns. 
When a word was told to him, and the object shown, he 
always associated that name with the object, but did not as 
yet understand names signifying the qualities of objects. 
For instance, Mr. Hanna had learned the meaning of the 
word signifying the color white, but not that signifying 
black. Now it happened that he was shown a black hen 
and the name was told him. The patient thought that 
"black hen" was the name of the bird. The next time he 
saw a hen of white color, he remarked that there was 
another "white black-hen." 

The way in which he learned the use of adjectives will 
be made clear by the following example : The difference 
between "good" and "bad" was made clear to him by the 
objective demonstration of good and bad food. When Mr. 
Hanna first ate an apple he devoured all of the fruit, in- 
cluding core and stem, but the next time he was watched 
and the core was taken from him. The attendant, making 
a wry face, said repeatedly, pointing to this indigestible 
part of the fruit, "Bad, bad." The patient thus realized 
the meaning of these abstract words. At another time, 
to further emphasize the meaning of "bad," and prin- 
cipally to have a word of caution against harmful objects, 
Mr. Hanna, when hungry, was given a piece of soap ; 
thinking it food, he put it into his mouth. The soap was 
snatched away from him with the exclamation, "Bad, 
bad ! ' ' Thus he acquired his first knowledge of the differ- 
ence between good and bad, and thereafter it was applied 
to different objects under many other circumstances and 
conditions. 



GROWTH OF NEW PERSONALITY 99 

As an illustration of how abstract ideas, which were 
complicated and had no relation to objects, but rather to 
activities, were acquired, we may give the following inci- 
dent : It was, of course, important to acquaint the patient 
with the meaning of the word "careful" in order to avoid 
harmful situations, but it was most difficult to convey the 
exact meaning of this word, and it could not be illustrated 
objectively. Now it happened that an attendant bringing 
him a glass of water upon a tray almost upset the contents. 
Someone exclaimed, "Be careful, be careful!" Mr. 
Hanna, noticing the effect, immediately grasped the sig- 
nificance of the phrase. Thus, knowledge of words in their 
abstract meaning and their wide application was gained. 

The fact that great difficulty was experienced in con- 
veying to the patient 's mind the meaning of abstract words 
in no way indicates his dulness of comprehension. On the 
contrary, his mind was as keen as ever and always on the 
alert. The intense activity of the patient's mind and the 
great power of his reasoning were well illustrated by his 
ability to make the utmost use of the knowledge he gained. 

It is highly instructive to follow Mr. Hanna 's acquisi- 
tion of knowledge of space. Immediately after the acci- 
dent he was found to have no knowledge of space what- 
ever. He possessed, however, sensations of color, of light, 
of shades, of darkness, but the concept of space was not 
present in his mind. He had no idea of distance and made 
efforts to grasp far-off objects, such, for instance, as orna- 
ments and pictures that were beyond his reach. 

To illustrate the total lack of appreciation of distance, 
we may mention his effort, one day while still confined to 
his bed, to grasp a distant tree perceived through the win- 
dow. The tree was to him an object of interest, presented 
to his eye as a series of' sensations attracting his attention, 
and he naturally endeavored, by reaching out his hand, to 
get hold of it. Like an infant, he would not have hesitated 
to grasp the moon or take hold of a star. 



Lof< 



100 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Mr. Hanna, in the early stage of his secondary life, 
having as yet no perception of distance, had the sensation 
that everything was "close" to his eyes. The sense-ele- 
ments, however, that go to make up the concept of space 
were present. Thus, he had some appreciation of room, 
volume. Shortly after recovering consciousness, with his 
eyes still closed, having none but internal sensations, and 
even of these no proper perception, he still had some idea 
of volume. He wondered how much room there could be, 
although he could not clearly formulate this idea. From 
constant efforts to reach objects, and from the many failures 
attending his early attempts, he gradually gained an idea 
of distance and learned the relation of objects to each other 
in space. 

Mr. Hanna seemed to acquire the knowledge of space 
along with that of movement. At first he was not aware of 
the fact that he could control his muscles. He could not 
adapt and co-ordinate his movements to seize near and dis- 
tant objects. He knew not how much force to put forth, — 
how much energy to exert to grasp objects of various size 
and weight. By daily effort, however, at first rather invol- 
untary, by automatic movement and by constant exertion, 
the voluntary gradually emerging from the involuntary, 
Mr. Hanna learned to grasp objects — to feel and handle 
them — and thus the kinesthetic sense was trained. The 
ideas of space and movement were so interlaced that their 
development seemed to go hand in hand. 

The primitive elements in his space knowledge were sen- 
sations of volume in a rather vague manner, and along with 
them also the sensations of movement; Mr. Hanna seemed 
to have developed the two simultaneously. Thus, at the 
beginning, he wondered how much room there was, and the 
involuntary movements of his hands gave him the feeling 
of how much more, how much expanded that movement 
could be. Once an involuntary movement of his limbs oc- 
curred he learned to repeat it voluntarily. He took pleas- 



GROWTH OF NEW PERSONALITY 101 

ure in the exercise of his muscular apparatus. As in the 
case of the infant, the involuntary chance movements give 
rise to a process of auto-imitation, the same movement is 
repeated over and over again with great delight, and after- 
ward this process is amplified and varied. So it was in 
the case of Mr. Hanna. He took delight in repeating his 
movements many times over, and then amplified and varied 
them. When a chance movement of his arms occurred, he 
took great pleasure in repeating it, and then went further — 
he extended his arms, moved them in different directions, 
and thus, in this uncertain, involuntary, indefinite way, 
gaining more definitely the idea of volume and movement. 
The apparently senseless excursions of his arms alarmed 
the physicians and attendants ; he was thought to be suffer- 
ing from delirium. 

Along with his own spontaneous efforts at education, 
those about him constantly endeavored to teach him. We 
must, however, call the reader's attention to the fact that 
although Mr. Hanna was unable to make voluntary adapta- 
tions in his movements to his environment, although he had 
to be taught to walk in order to reach an object, still under 
strong emotional upheavals he made correct movements 
of adaptation which he could not afterward voluntarily 
repeat. This fact was clearly revealed shortly after he 
regained consciousness, when he, supposing himself at- 
tacked, was able to make efforts of resistance and cor- 
rect co-ordination of movements. However, this was but a 
flash that appeared under special conditions, — a flash, the 
general form of which he could recall and give an account 
of after having acquired means of communication. 

His own movements, as well as those of objects and 
persons about him, especially attracted and interested him, 
as is the case with children and lower animals. The move- 
ments of his own limbs greatly aroused his interest when 
after the accident he first gained consciousness and opened 
his eyes; it was the sensation of movement that first at- 



102 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tracted his notice. The very first sensation he experienced 
in his new life was the movements of his chest in respira- 
tion. He first learned of voluntary movement by noticing 
that the rapidity of respiration and the concomitant rise 
and fall of the chest-wall were under his own control. 

Mr. Hanna did not originally appreciate differences in 
the cause and form of movements. Movements, voluntary 
and involuntary, made by himself or occurring in the exter- 
nal world, were of the same character to him. Thus, when 
he noticed an attendant walk across the room, he identified 
the movement with that of his own. He did not yet dis- 
criminate between his own movements and those outside 
himself. He gradually learned the difference between these 
two kinds of movement by the observation that he had con- 
trol over his own movements, but not over those of others. 
This also was a basis originally of differentiation between 
himself and the external world. 

In the case of time as in that of space Mr. Hanna lacked 
at first all knowledge. The flow of time and the various 
parts of the day were at first appreciable to him only by 
the changes from light to darkness. Even after gaining 
more knowledge, he still measured the intervals rather 
roughly by the succession of meals. 

After he had advanced so far in his knowledge as to 
know of objects and to localize them more or less roughly 
in space and time, he still was unable to distinguish be- 
tween the animate and the inanimate. It was only later on, 
when he had acquired some knowledge of voluntary move- 
ment, that he could discriminate between the two. At first 
movement in general, and later spontaneous movement, be- 
came to him the criterion of life. For some time a moving ■ 
thing was to him identical with a living object. Branches 
and leaves of trees, because of their occasional movement, 
he regarded as animate, and later learning that spontaneous 
movement was peculiar to the animate, he wondered that 
branches and leaves could move. 



GROWTH OF NEW PERSONALITY 103 

He did not analyze a complicated object into its differ- 
ent qualitative components, simply because he lacked the 
knowledge of the individual constituents. This was well 
illustrated by the following amusing incident : He saw a 
man sitting in a carriage and driving a horse, and ob- 
serving that all moved together, he regarded them as one 
object, one living being. Later on, learning that there 
were various kinds of beings, he thought a man mounted 
upon a bicycle was a kind of man different from those he 
was accustomed to see. When, however, he learned to 
know the objects separately, he gained the proper concep- 
tion of each. 

When he acquired knowledge of the existence of living 
beings, it was still hard for him to realize what persons 
really were in contradistinction to other living beings, and 
when he learned to differentiate the two, it was difficult for 
him to realize that he, too, was a person. Persons, he 
thought, moved about, while he was lying in bed ; then, too, 
they were dressed, while he was not. The manner in which 
he learned that he, too, was a being like other people is inter- 
esting. Mr. Hanna, pointing to himself, asked an attendant, 
"people? people?" meaning to inquire whether he himself 
belonged to the same beings, and receiving an affirmative 
reply, he understood that he, too, was "people." Here 
again his imitative proclivity manifested itself in that he 
wished to be dressed and appear like other people. He was 
anxious to feel that he also was a person. To emphasize 
the fact to himself and others, and at the same time think- 
ing this condition indispensable for personality, he was de- 
sirous of appearing dressed like those about him. 

It was difficult for Mr. Hanna to realize that, although 
he was a person, still his personality differed from that of 
others. It was hard to convey to him the different shades 
of meaning of words that indicate consciousness of individ- 
uality. The ego or self-consciousness came rather late in 
his present mental development. He was certainly con- 



104 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

scious and the activity of that consciousness was very- 
intense. He was most eagerly taking in and elaborating 
impressions coming from the external world, impressions 
that were to him entirely new; still, the consciousness of 
self was for some time absent. It was only after prolonged 
efforts on the part of his teachers that he could grasp the 
meaning of words conveying the idea of personal relations. 

Before Mr. Hanna had acquired a more or less extensive 
vocabulary, an attempt was made by the attendants to con- 
vey to him the meaning and distinction between the con- 
cepts "mine" and "yours." This was done in the following 
way : A watch was placed in his hand, and a pin held by 
the attendant. The latter, then pointing to the watch, said 
and made Mr. Hanna repeat, ' ' This is mine. ' ' Then in a 
like manner, pointing to the pin, he instructed Mr. Hanna 
to say, "This is yours." He could not, however, compre- 
hend the meaning, and all efforts in that direction were in 
vain. He could easily repeat the words, but found it im- 
possible to grasp their meaning. It was only later on in 
the course of his mental acquisition that he realized the 
significance of words indicating the various shades of per- 
sonal relationship. 

Associated systems of ideas of a more or less fixed and 
definite nature characteristic of the developed mind were 
wanting for some time after the injury, and there could 
therefore be no possibility of self-conscious individuality. 
When he acquired more knowledge of the external and in- 
ternal worlds, when his vocabulary became more extended 
and he could come into communication with persons and 
his environment, it was only then that, after great efforts, 
he succeeded in grasping the meaning of words that express 
personal relations and the significance of individuality. 

There is, of course, no need of expanding on the fact 
that Mr. Hanna had no idea of sex. In fact, even when he 
was well advanced in his mental development and enjoyed 
free communication with others, he still had no idea what- 



GROWTH OF NEW PERSONALITY 105 

ever of the sexual difference between men and women. 
Even when he was so far advanced as to discuss difficult 
and complicated religious questions, he still had not the 
least notion of sexual differences and reproduction. The 
first knowledge acquired of differences in sexual structure 
was the information given him in the distinct formation of 
the two sexes of the floral world. Even then, however, he 
knew only of the differences in sexual structure and func- 
tion in the vegetable kingdom. The absence of anything 
pertaining to the amorous was so pronounced that he could 
not understand the different conventional relations between 
the sexes, or, as he at that time expressed it, between the 
"two strange kinds of human beings." He could not un- 
derstand why feelings of gratitude, friendship, likings, 
could not be openly and frankly expressed by caresses and 
kisses, in his relations toward both sexes alike. 

Although he was lacking in all other forms of knowl- 
edge, it was of great interest to find that Mr. Hanna from 
the very start had a keen appreciation of the harmonious in 
general, and of music in particular. As soon as he learned 
to know and recognize objects and pictures without being 
instructed as to what was beautiful and what was ugly, he 
showed at once his likes and dislikes in relation to them. 
In fact, we may add that his sense of appreciation of the 
beautiful and his disgust for the ugly was even far 
stronger and keener in this state after the accident than in 
his normal condition before it. So keen was his apprecia- 
tion of the beautiful, in music especially, and so remarkably 
strong were his imitative powers, that he learned to sing 
hymns and play instruments in so short a time that the ac- 
quisition seemed almost miraculous. Having had no famil- 
iarity with the banjo before the accident, he acquired the 
skill of playing it in but a few hours. A friend spent an 
afternoon with him in teaching him to play the banjo, and 
was astonished at the remarkable aptitude of the pupil who 
in a few hours learned to handle the instrument with the 



106 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

facility of an experienced player. Mr. Ilanna showed the 
same remarkable aptitude in acquiring the technique of the 
piano. He soon repeated with correctness several selections 
on the instrument after having only a few times carefully 
watched their execution. 



CHAPTER IV 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 



To make clear to the reader the state of Mr. Hanna's 
mind, we bring here verbatim answers to our questions put 
to him some six weeks after the accident, when his sec- 
ondary personality became sufficiently trained and edu- 
cated to give an account of what had taken place since the 
injury. 

We had frequently to simplify and elucidate our ques- 
tions, as Mr. Hanna often failed to understand words and 
phrases. Mr. Hanna's talk is somewhat incoherent, due 
to scantiness of his mental content and of his newly ac- 
quired vocabulary. 

Q. We want to get from you an account of the very 
first things you remember of your life <? A. That would 
be hard to do orderly. I told you before about that. 
I woke up, and it was at first only wonder how far 
anything could be. Of course, I did not move, and did 
not see ; just in my mind measuring how far there could be 
room or space. And while I was thinking, I noticed this 
movement that I had when I breathe, and then, when I 
would think and notice that breathing, it would be more 
slow and irregular ; and so I found when I would think and 
watch that it would change and that I could make it slow 
or fast, and I began to breathe very fast. They have told 
me since that time that that was what frightened them 
first. But it was just to see how fast I could breathe, and I 
was breathing very fast to see how it would seem. And all 
at once my eyes opened. I don 't know how it came. I was 

107 



108 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

breathing very fast, and my eyes just came open, and then 
I looked all around at everything, and found that my head 
would turn, too, when I would try to look. 

Q. When you opened your eyes, did you have an im- 
pression of any kind or was your mind a blank ? A. I don 't 
know that there was anything. My eyes just were so 
confused by everything that I could not tell one thing from 
another. 

Q. Then everything looked alike to you? A. Just like 
one picture against my eyes. If now I could have a great 
picture against my eyes, it would look like that. 

Q. Did you see objects, or see colors? A. Colors. 
There was not anything like thickness; no distance; only 
colors. 

Q. Did you see straight lines, squares? A. It was only 
darkness and lightness and colors. 

Q. You can see the straightness of this pencil (placing 
a pencil at some distance from the patient) ? A. Yes. 

Q. Did you see anything of that kind? A. No; they 
were just alike; all was one thing. I would not know 
whether the pencil was on your face or not. It was all one 
thing — close to my eyes — just like a painting. 

Q. What was nest after you noticed that you could 
turn your head? A. When I would turn my eyes very 
far, and see all about this picture, I noticed my head would 
turn, too. Then I began to roll my head very fast, to see 
how hard I could turn it. Then I would turn that hand. 
Then I threw both hands. They say that was what fright- 
ened them worst of all. Everything in the room was all 
still and quiet. I wanted to see how much I could move 
my hand. Then there was something here that changed, 
that moved. Of course, I know now what it was. I thought 
it was something that my hand had done that made it 

move. It was really Dr. St n, near the door. I put out 

my hand and tried to move it, but found that I didn't 
touch it; I got up and went farther and farther to make 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 109 

it move. The movement surprised me. I thought my hand 
must have done it, but I did not move my hand any then. 
That was the first time I separated my movement from that 
of others, when he moved the first time without my moving 
him. It was all very strange. It was such an experience. 
The first I knew of external movement at all was when he 
moved, and then I didn't have it clear in my mind. The 
first that I was really sure that there was something beside 
me was when Dr. 0. jumped on me. Then I was sure there 
was something against me. 

Q. But before you thought it was yourself? A. Yes. 
But I thought I didn't know it all. I thought there must 
be some part that I didn't know; but it was very hard, 
because I was so much surprised at everything each sec- 
ond that I wanted to think all about that — what it could 
be and what it could not be ; and then the next second there 
would be something else I wanted to think about, and it was 
very hard to get all these things in my mind, and to think 
of them orderly after they jumped at me. 

Q. Did you know why he jumped on you? A. No; I 
did not have time to think of those questions. I would 
now think of those things. I knew I was trying to reach 
out, and he was trying to push me back, and I saw that 
Dr. 0. was the only one, and I could not really make 
out that there were many of them in the room. It 
seemed to me that after all it was all one thing that was 
against me, and that they were all like a part of me, and 
when he came at me, all the others came, so that I could 
not make them separate. So I thought by holding him 
down it would stop everything. They had it very easy the 
first time to put me on the bed. I was close by the bed. I 
did not know how to use my legs or arms at all. They 
could put me down, because I could not use my arms. I 
very soon landed on the bed, with them on me. 

Q. How did you learn to use your arms? A. I could 
move around in different ways. I found when I had my 



110 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

knees and arms under me, I could get up then. I first 

pushed Dr. St n back and then pushed Dr. 0., and got 

him on the bed. Mr. Sh. I did not touch. He was pushing 
on my back. He was a very tall man. Mr. M., the other 
man, was a small man. He got on my head. That was 
afterward. We were lying still. There I was holding Dr. 
0. down, and almost afraid to move, because he might get 
up, and the other men were on me. And they did not try 
to do anything ; they did not try to get me back to bed. 

Q. Just to hold you still ? A. I suppose so. I was will- 
ing to be still. They got this other man, and as soon as 
they got him, they tried to push me off Dr. 0., and they got 
me off. And I saw it was not any use to try to do any- 
thing, and so I went back to bed. But that was not enough. 
They tied my arms, even when I had gotten away from 
them. I was very much disappointed then ; thought it was 
not any good to try to do anything. But this other man 
came — that I found out afterward was Mr. C. — he came 
late at night into the house and he came and saw that the 
rope was hurting one of my arms. It was very tight, and 
so he begged the doctors to take it off, and they would 
not. At last, he said he was going to take it off himself ; he 
was going to take the responsibility on himself. I remem- 
ber those sentences. (The patient could remember the 
words, but did not at that time realize the significance of 
the sentences.) 

Q. Do you remember the sentences'? A. Yes; I had 
seen that when one of them would make these noises (pa- 
tient refers to speech) that another would know just what 
to do; so I saw by that they could understand each other, 
and I thought it would be good for me to learn, and so I 
tried to learn. I knew then that they had some way of 
communication, of talking; and I knew that Mr. C. was 
very kind, and I thought these others were bad. And so I 
wanted to talk to him. 

Q. How do you know he was kind ? A. He was trying 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 111 

to take these off, and the doctors would come and take his 
hand away, and at last, when they were out of the room, he 
took them (ropes) off. 

Q. That rope was painful ? A. Oh, yes ; I could not lie 
any way except with my face down. I could not turn over 
on either side. My arms were very tight behind me. 

Q. Afterward they took off the rope and let you free? 
A. Yes; then I could lie back. I was content to lie then. 
They had stuck a needle (for hypodermic injection) in my 
arm and injected in my arm. I was glad to lie still, if they 
would let me alone. 

Q. Did you feel any pain 1 A. No. 

Q. You felt that (hypodermic) needle? A. Oh, yes; I 
felt that was sharp. 

Q. What was the first thing you learned; do you re- 
member? A. You mean the first words? The first thing 
I did was to repeat aloud whatever sentences I had heard 
people say, that I could remember; every one that I could 
remember. I did not know anything what they meant. I 
thought perhaps that I could learn to talk that way by say- 
ing what other people said. 

Q. You repeated what they said? A. Yes; I repeated 
them without understanding the sense. I would say the 
same as they did. Anywhere in the house that I could 
hear words I would say them afterward. But it did not 
do any good; I could not learn to talk at all. So Friday 
afternoon (the day after the accident) I stopped talking 
— saying those sentences — because I saw that I could not 
learn to talk any better that way. And I was feeling then 
very discouraged, because people laughed at me. 

Q. Why were you discouraged? A. Because it did not 
make any difference to them (to the people). Sometimes 
the sentences, I suppose, would happen to be suiting, and 
then they would be very much surprised at what I said; 
and again they would see that it was nonsense, I suppose, 
and they would not pay any attention to it, except to go 



112 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

and tell the doctors what I said. That was about all; and 
Friday afternoon I gave up. 

Q. Can you recall any sentences which you at that time 
repeated without knowing the meaning of the words? A. 
Mr. S. said words like these: "Do you want me to come?" 
That is the best I can remember. And Dr. 0. said: 
"Course, you fool." 

Q. But you did not understand what it meant? A. 
No; the accident, they tell me, happened Thursday night, 
and I began to learn to speak late Friday afternoon. 

Q. How many sentences had you repeated ? A. I think 
as many as thirty or forty. 

Q. For how many days? A. For two days. Saturday 
before noon was the first time that I learned any word with 
its real meaning. Saturday — before dinner. I could only 
tell times by daylight and the lamplight, and by the three 
meals. That is all I knew about time then. 

Q. When you learned the meaning of the first word 
were you still repeating sentences? A. Oh, yes; I had be- 
gun to repeat sentences again Friday night and Saturday 
morning ; but Friday afternoon and evening I had stopped, 
because it did not seem any good to me at all; and then I 
thought it was very foolish to lie there and do nothing, and 
not work at all, to have people understand me. And so I 
began again to repeat these sentences. And then Saturday 
morning I felt a great deal worse about it, and so I began 
to try to act as if I wanted to talk all I could, and that is 
the time that Miss A. saw what I wanted to do. She got 
an apple from the table, and held the yellow apple up to 
me, and said "apple" plainly three times. 

Q. And you repeated it ? A. Yes ; she made the motion 
very clearly with her mouth and I said it after her; and 
she showed me it was all right. 

Q. How did she show it? A. She smiled, and nodded 
her head. 

Q. Did you understand? A. Yes; I could tell by the 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 113 

motions people made to each other; the way they nodded 
and the way they would motion with their hands. I do not 
think it was later than about Friday afternoon or Friday 
noon when I could understand almost everything people 
could do when they would come, and I think I could after 
a long time have understood their language that way; but 
I think it would have taken a long time, because those peo- 
ple at that time seemed to use their hands and their face 
a great deal more than you do, or people do now. I don't 
know why it was. (His attendants and visitors were under 
more than usual excitement.) Mr. Sh. more than all; his 
hands and his head would be going all the time. 

Q. How did you learn to know distance"? A. A pict- 
ure I saw across the room did not seem farther than a 
clock near by. So I thought I would reach out and feel it, 
but I could not reach it, and I reached farther and farther. 
I did not want to get up any more, because I had found 
they did not want me to get up; and so I thought I must 
not now. And so I just reached as far as I could. And 
even after I knew something about distance, I stretched out 
my hand to reach distant things. But the greatest surprise 
of all was the looking-glass which they gave me. That was 
just after I reached for the picture. It was very strange. 
I thought I must be able to feel it the same as I could feel 
my face, or anybody's face — I thought I could feel in the 
looking-glass. It was all smooth, and that was what sur- 
prised me so much. 

Q. Did you look on the other side? A. No; but I put 
my hand back, back. Then I turned it around, and could 
not see it. It was very strange to see it move when I would 
turn this. If I would turn it this side, the face would look 
as if it were turning that way. It was very strange. That 
was the greatest surprise I had during that day — was to 
understand the looking-glass. 

Q. When was that? A. That was Saturday about 

noon. 

9 



114 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Q. Did you understand then what it was? A. No; I 
did not. I thought there must be some way of putting the 
picture here. I did not know it was my face. If I had 
known it was my face, it would have been different. 

Q. Did you reach any conclusion as to what the glass 
was? A. I thought it was some kind of a picture that 
could move. 

Q. How did you learn the difference between a picture 
and a living human being ? A. "Well, they could move, and 
they had different shape, you know, from the picture. The 
picture was smooth, if you tried the picture. 

Q. How did you come to know of pictures? A. They 
gave me picture-books. 



CHAPTER V 

first impressions (continued) 

Q. How did you know the difference between yourself 
and other people? A. When Dr. 0. was there Thursday 
night, then I knew that there were others, but I did not 
know of myself. It was Sunday before I really could see 
persons, but I always thought I was something different, 
because people were always either standing or walking, and 
they were always dressed up, and I was not. I did not 
think I was a person at all until Mr. Sh. told me. 

Q. Did you find any difference between yourself and 
other people ? A. Yes, and that was why I began to think 
about it. 

Q. Did you speak about it ? A. Yes, I could speak sev- 
eral words then. 

Q. How did you ask? Did you ask by words or by 
signs or gestures? A. I said "people"; that meant them 
all. Mr. Sh. told me that I was "people," and he told me 
I was a man same as he was ; and I did not believe that. I 
began to ask him why I could not have clothes on like other 
people. That was after I had learned to talk a good deal. 

•Q. Were you afraid when someone put his hand on 
your face? A. Yes; I did not like it very much. That 
was what Dr. 0. did first of all — put his hand right out- 
side of my face, and I did not like it. Dr. 0. was a big, 
heavy man; and of course it was not very nice for him to 
hit me that way. 

Q. It was not because you were not afraid of the hand 
itself? A. Only that I did not want to have others do 
what Dr. 0. did. 

115 



116 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Q. When you saw your own hand, did you know that 
it belonged to yourself? A. Yes; because I could move 
this ; I could control this. 

Q. But you could not control the hand of others? A. 
I could move it a little. 

Q. But others could move your hand, too ? A. Not if I 
did not want them to. I could take it away and move it 
the way I would like. That was very easy to tell. 

Q. You could tell simply by the control of the move- 
ments ? A. Yes ; my being able to move. 

Q. But at the beginning did you know the difference 
between your hands and the hands of other people? A. 
No ; there were not any other people in the beginning. But 
really there were so many things ; it was really when I be- 
gan to look at all these different colors separately, that 
I saw so much. It is now seven weeks, and sometimes I get 
a little doubtful about the order ; that is, my mind is doubt- 
ful. 1 Next day, after the apple, I learned about the watch. 
I was just lying there very quiet, and Miss A. was sitting 
in the chair, and we were both very still, and she was 
watching me. My watch was up on the chiffonier, and she 
made that sound — tick, tick, tick, tick, tick — and I noticed 
it was just like the sound of the watch, and I said it after- 
ward. I saw that that was what she wanted. She took the 
watch down and put it to my ear. Then she told me,' ' Watch, 
watch" — like that, as plain as she could say it. And then 
the next was to teach me that it was my. own. She taught 
me that it belonged to me. 

Q. Did you understand it? How did she say it? A. 
She said "Watch"; put it in my hand; made me take it. 
Then she taught me to say it was mine. That was very 
hard — the difference between mine and yours. She had a 
pin, and she said, ' ' This is mine. ' ' She said, ' ' This is mine. ' ' 

Q. How did she show you it was hers ? A. She said it 

1 The early experiences after the accident are vague ; it was the 
infancy of the secondary personality. 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 117 

three times, and then pointed to the watch in my hand and 
said it eight or ten times. She pointed to the watch in my 
hand and said, ' ' That is yours, ' ' and she took my hand and 
made me point at her pin — some pin that she wears — and 
made me say, ''That is yours" — her pin, the same as she 
had said about my watch. And then, after that, she went 
and told the others that I could learn words — any words 
that they would teach me. And so they all, at any time 
they were in the room, wanted to teach me something. 

Q. What was the hardest for you to express? A. The 
hardest of all was to get them to understand that I wanted 
something that was very much like something I knew. For 
instance : I was very hungry then, because they were 
afraid to give me anything, and I wanted to eat some- 
thing, and the only thing I knew was ' ' apple. ' ' But I did 
not want apple. It was hard for me to tell them. I had to 
say ' ' apple, ' ' and said it many times, and when they would 
bring it and offer me a little piece, I did not want it. I had 
taken other things ; they had given me toast and milk, but 
I did not know the names of them. After they had given 
me three or four things I began to think there were other 
things to eat, too, and I wanted to know the names of all 
those things. If I had only known the word "food" or 
"dinner" or "eat" or any of those words. 

Q. How did you learn other words? A. The first I 
learned was, ' ' be careful. ' ' I asked them what that meant 
— "be careful" — and they tried to tell me, but they had 
to give it up. They could not make it clear to me, until at 
last Miss A. was setting down a vase of flowers, which was 
very full of water, and Mrs. C. told her to be careful, and 
I could see myself that it was in danger of tipping, and I 
could see what it meant. 

(Father.) I made a special effort to get him to under- 
stand the idea of the pronoun. That was a hard thing. I 
had a good deal of an effort to teach him the meaning of 
pronouns. Instead of saying "Thomas" or "Tom," as 



118 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

most of the attendants and visitors did, I tried to work into 
his mind the idea of the "I" or "you," and succeeded at 
last. (Mr. Hanna up to this time, imitating others, spoke 
of himself as "Tom," not understanding the use of pro- 
nouns.) 

Q. How did you succeed ? A. (Father.) There was no 
particular plan except to persist, and keep at it. 

Q. How did you learn the meaning of the words 
"good," "bad," for instance 1 ? A. At first, when I would 
eat an apple, I would eat the whole of it — the core and the 
stem. The next time when I would try to eat the core, they 
would make a face and take it away. And then they gave 
me a cake of soap. I thought that was to eat and put that 
to my mouth; and they took that away, and said, "Bad, 
bad," and made a face, and that was how I learned the 
meaning of bad and good. The first adjectives I learned 
were the color of flowers. It was very hard for me to learn 
about "pink pink." I had to learn that pink was a color, 
and there was a flower called a pink. I could not under- 
stand how it could be a name and color, both. 

Q. What was it you told me of the "white black-hen"? 
A. A hen of a black color was pointed out to me and called 
a black hen, and I thought that ' ' black hen ' ' was the name 
of the animal. At last they let the other chickens out later, 
and there happened to be a white hen, and as I knew the 
color white, I said "white black-hen." Then they told me 
that the name of the animal was hen, and black was the 
color. 

Q. How did you learn the meaning of the word 
"color"? A. That was many days after. I had been 
walking around in the other rooms a good while, and then 
they asked me what color a flower was they had cut. It 
was a pansy, a very strange color. I had asked them what 
color meant. I said, "What do you mean by color?" 
And then they explained to me, ' ' Red is color, pink, white, 
blue is color. ' ' 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 119 

Q. How did you learn the meaning of the word 
"God"? A. Papa asked me if I knew about "God," and 
I told him "No," and about "Christ," and he named sev- 
eral of those names, and I told him "No"; and he could 
not explain it to me. 

Q. (To father.) When did you first begin to speak to 
him of religion ? A. (Father.) That was several days after 
the accident; I tried to find out whether the name "God," 
"Jesus," or "Christ" awakened in him any recognition, 
or were in any way familiar to him, but I found they did 
not awaken the least sense of familiarity. 

(Mr. Hanna.) The greatest trouble in my understand- 
ing was, that I thought papa was talking about some per- 
son that I could see, hear, or feel. I did not have that idea 
clearly, and that was why I could not understand what he 
meant. 1 

Q. How did you go on with your learning of the 
words'? A. That was very fast. Everyone would tell 
me words, and as soon as I had known some words I 
could begin to guess other words that they would use, and 
they would use the words I knew, and put them in sen- 
tences, and I used to enjoy more than anything else to 
listen, to hear them talking. Whenever there would be any 
word I would not understand I would try to think of any 
word just before it, or after it. 

Q. When you saw for the first time your father, or 
mother, or Miss C, or others of your friends and acquaint- 
ances, did you have any feeling of ever having seen 
them before ? A. No ; I had to learn to know them all 
over again. 

Q. Did you have any feeling of liking or attraction for 
your parents or Miss C. different than you had for others ? 
A. No; the only thing I knew about father when he came 
was that everyone was waiting. 

1 Even at this time Mr. Hanna did not understand the concepts 
relating to religion. 



120 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Q. How long after the accident was that? A. (By 
father.) Just about thirteen hours. 

Q. You say you noticed the anxiety of people around 
you? A. People were coming in and going out all the 
time, but they had been just people they had not looked 
for, or expected or waited for. I saw that by the way 
they acted that papa was someone that I ought to think 
a great deal about. This was the first feeling I had for 
papa. Everything that I did was what I learned from 
them ; was imitation. 

Q. How have you learned to read? A. Just by asking 
every word. Papa told me first. Jud. taught me the 
alphabet as far as Q, then he stopped for some reason. I 
don't know the alphabet now in order, except as far as Q. 

Q. (To father.) How long did it take him to learn to 
read? A. A very short time. The first words were taken 
from Scripture and were mostly words of one syllable and 
two syllables, from passages that happened to be in the 
scrolls — that hung on the wall. I hung up one of the scrolls 
where he could easily see it. And then he looked over the 
scroll and recognized a few words that somebody had 
taught him. And I read it over to him, and he cut out one 
or two of the words that were familiar to him, and that 
gave him an interest in it at once, when he saw that I by 
looking at this printed page could repeat certain words 
from it which he had heard in conversation. That seemed 
to awaken a good deal of interest in him, and so he wished 
at once to read it. Then I pointed out the word to him and 
pronounced it for him, and he pronounced it after me, and 
then he seemed to memorize it instantaneously — almost as if 
it were photographed on his mind. As soon as I had read 
over the phrase once to him, and he had read it over once 
himself, he had that verse as a complete and permanent 
possession. So he learned what was on the page. I thought 
that would be enough for one day. We were very careful 
then to avoid crowding him. The next day we turned over 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 121 

the page and took the next, and thus went on very fast. 
He learned so rapidly in those days that it was almost 
miraculous. In about a week he could read tolerably well ; 
make out the sense of plain language; while he would 
sometimes stop with a very simple word — a word so simple 
that he would think he must surely have had it already, 
and we would stop him a little. But it was about a week 
before we began to be able to say he could read a little. 

Q. Did he learn long words as easily as the short ones ? 
A. Just about as easily. 

Q. As to writing? A. He did not write in those days, 
except by way of copying, and he was inclined to print. 
He formed printed letters. Just imitated the letters he 
studied. 

Q. How long did it take you to learn to write? A. I 
did not learn to write until Saturday, the 15th of May. 

Q. Do you write now without help? A. Not all the 
letters. I have a copy. I have the alphabet written out so 
that I can look for any letter I do not know. I think I 
know about all of the small letters and about half the 
capital letters. 

Q. How did you learn your relationship to your par- 
ents? A. Mr. Sh. explained to me that everything must 
have parents, and I could understand that Mr. and Mrs. C. 
were very different to their daughter and to their son from 
what they were to other people ; and the best I had to ex- 
plain it to me was when I went out of doors and saw little 
chickens with the hen. I could understand a great deal 
better what was meant. They told me it was a mother-hen. 

Q. Have you no special feeling of love for your own 
mother ? A. No. I had not seen my mother, in fact, for a 
long time after. And I could see mothers going by with 
little children, and taking such good care of them. 

Q. Did you learn to play the organ or piano ? A. Yes ; 
Mr. Sh. taught me first to play one hymn, and J. taught 
me and W. did. 



122 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Q. Plow long did it take you to learn to play? A. I 
could play from the keys just the way Mr. Sh. did, very 
soon. After he had played it half a dozen times he would 
put my fingers on the keys and I played. 

Q. Did you play it from ear ? A. By watching. 

Q. You repeated it once or twice, and then afterward 
it was correct ? A. Yes ; after a while I got it right. 

Q. How long did it take you to correctly repeat the 
first air? A. Jud. taught me one or two chords. Then I 
said I wanted to learn to play; to learn the regular way. 
Then I sent W. for a hymn-book — it was in church. I be- 
gan at the beginning and learned all about the notes. He 
told me all about the names of the notes, and staff, and I 
used to work sometimes several hours every day. I didn't 
get three sharps nor four sharps, so even now I can hardly 
play with those. 

Q. They taught you the time ? A. Yes ; I think almost 
everything they taught me. 

Q. What other instrument do you play ? A. The banjo. 
They say I never touched the banjo before. 

Q. How long did it take you to learn to play the banjo ? 
A. Mr. C. said he could have taught me all he knew in one 
afternoon. He taught me in about an hour to play on the 
banjo ; and this surprised me, because I have had to work 
so hard with the piano and the organ, and even now they 
say I do not play as well as I did before, without mistakes. 

Q. How about the hymns? Did you find some of the 
hymns familiar when you heard them sung ? A. I remem- 
ber a good many of them now, but they were all new then. 
I do not know what you mean when you say ' ' familiar. ' ' 

Q. Have you heard them before, some time before the 
accident? A. No. They tell me there were some I did not 
care for before, but which I like very much now. I think 
that is very strange. They tell me also that I like to eat 
things I did not care for before. 

Q. You think your taste for food has changed? A. 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 123 

Yes; they tell me in some things it has changed; not in 
everything. I do not care much for meat now — only a very 
little meat. I used to eat meat three times a day, and large 
quantities of meat, too, and they say I used to eat a great 
deal of cake, and now I never eat a piece of cake except 
gingerbread. 

Q. How did you feel when you first came out and saw 
the trees and grass ? A. I wanted to reach out and feel the 
trees. I could not step off the veranda at all; I put my 
foot down ; I did not know how far to put it down to reach 
the ground. 

Q. Did you try to reach the distant tree with your 
hand ? A. Yes. I stretched out my hand to touch the tree, 
which was far off. 

Q. How did the heavens strike you in general 1 ? A. 
How did it strike me? (The patient did not understand 
the question. He associated the word "strike" with "hit- 
ting.") 

Q. How did it impress you? A. I thought the heavens 
were hard, like anything else, like a wall or ceiling. I saw 
only different colors overhead. The sky looked like a ceil- 
ing. I could see when I was moved from one room to an- 
other that the sky would stay the same ; it did not move. 

Q. How did the stars impress you? A. They told me 
what a star was before I saw one. 

Q. How did the sun impress you ? A. It seemed like a 
lamp. 

Q. You saw the train ; how did that impress you ? A. I 
had seen the electric cars before. 

Q. And the engine on the train — did it frighten you at 
all ? A. No ; it surprised me very much. 

Q. You didn't think it was alive? A. No. The 
strangest thing was bicycles. I thought a bicycle with a 
man on was a different kind of man ; different kind of peo- 
ple, because I never saw a bicycle without a person on it. 
(Mr. H. meant by "never" the time since the accident.) 



124 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Q. How did you notice the difference between a thing 
alive and not alive? A. Because they move. It was hard 
for me to understand about trees. The branches and leaves 
were moving. I thought they were alive. 

Q. What did you think of horses and carriages? A. I 
thought it was all the same animal. Then when I got out 
into the other rooms I saw wagons alone. I saw they were 
different. It surprised me a great deal to see trees and 
grass change so. People do not change so. 

Q. How many people do you know now? A. I think 
about a hundred. I do not think I would know a hundred 
to know their names, but there are some I would see and 
speak to, when I would not know the names. (It was most 
interesting yet pathetic to see Mr. Hanna move about the 
streets of the small town among those whom he formerly 
knew and whom he used to greet cordially, now go along 
showing absolutely no recognition, no sense of familiarity 
of his former friends and acquaintances.) 

Q. When you saw a baby the first time, how did it look 
to you ? A. It was very funny to see such little people. I 
thought everyone became alive as a large man, and I 
thought I was only a few days old. 

Q. You thought you were just born ? A. Even when they 
told me I had lived twenty-four years, I thought I had al- 
ways been of the same size. I thought I would just live a few 
days. I did not think I would be living after a few days. 
I was very much surprised when people told me I would 
live several weeks. I did not think very much about it. 
Another thing that was very strange was to find out that 
people lived so far away, and at first I thought that every- 
body I saw lived near my home, and I used to make them 
laugh when I would ask someone living at a distance to 
come in again in a little while, and I could not possibly un- 
derstand how there could be so much distance. Father told 
me it would take about a hundred days, he thought, to walk 
right straight ahead, and even then there would be more 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 125 

distance. I could not understand. He said that to ride 
over to M. in a wagon would take about sixty minutes. He 
had taught me the minutes on the watch. 

( The following will give an insight into the condition of 
the patient 's sexual feelings and the emotions to which they 
gave rise up to the time of the inquiry.) 

In the course of our examination, the patient was asked 
the following questions : 

Q. How was it with you shortly after the accident ; did 
you feel more pleasant in the society of young women than 
in that of young men? A. Not for a good many days. I 
knew only that they talked differently and acted differently. 

Q. Have your emotions since been awakened ? 1 A. Not 
for many days. 

Q. And now you feel you are in the ordinary way ? A. 
Yes. (Mr. Hanna could not comprehend these questions, 
and we were obliged to put our questions in a simpler and 
more direct way.) 

Q. Does it please you to see nice-looking women? A. 
Yes ; anybody nice-looking. 

Q. Does it make a difference whether you see a nice- 
looking man or a nice-looking woman? A. "Well, of course 
there is a difference. 

Q. Do you enjoy rather to look at a nice-looking woman 
than at a nice-looking man ? A. I do not know ; it does not 
make so much difference. If it is a picture, they must be 
very nice-looking to enjoy; but if it is a person, I like to 
hear the voice. The voices of women are softer and more 
pleasant to hear. 

Q. "Would you have any desire to kiss or embrace a 
woman whom you liked very much ? 2 A. Yes, my mother 
or sister. 

1 Mr. Hanna did not understand the question. 

2 Mr. H. was engaged to Miss C. , whom in his secondary state he 
did not know. We wanted to find by these questions whether any 
subconscious feeling of recognition and love could be revealed. 



126 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Q. Would you ever desire to kiss any other woman ? A. 
No; I would not have any wish. (We learned later that 
Mr. Hanna was instructed by his father that it was im- 
proper to kiss or caress any woman other than his family.) 

Q. Suppose you meet a nice-talking woman — she talks 
very nicely and has a very sweet and beautiful face; you 
are told not to kiss her, but do you have a desire to kiss 
her? A. No. 

Q. No desire to embrace her? A. You mean to caress 
her? (Patient had not yet learned the word "embrace.") 
I would be willing, but was told I must not. They 
taught me that I must be different to Miss C. than to my 
mother and sister. When I was at Mr. C.'s I wanted to 
take Miss C.'s hand, but she said it was not proper. (Mr. 
Hanna, then turning to us, asked:) Do you think it is im- 
proper to caress? I should not see any harm in caressing 
either men or women, but they told me not to do it. Sup- 
pose that you did want to, can you think why it would be 
wrong? What is the difference ? (We gave him an evasive 
answer.) 

Q. Have you thought of how people come into the 
world? A. When I would say anything about how people 
were born, they would say I would know that some time. I 
then tried to find out something about that in books. 

Q. From what book did you get information? A. En- 
cyclopedia; at home. (Mr. Hanna often used the ency- 
clopedia and dictionary to enlarge his store of knowledge.) 

Q. What did you look up? A. I looked up anatomy, 
reproduction, etc. ; anything that people cannot explain 
to me I look up in the encyclopedia or dictionary. 

Q. Do you understand the meaning of the existence of 
men and women in the world? A. I do not understand 
that. 

Q. Do you know their physical differences? A. There 
are many differences ; I do not know them. I know more 
about flowers than anything else. 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS 127 

Q. But you say there are differences between men and 
women? A. Yes. 

Q. What are they? A. Men are almost always larger 
and their faces are stronger, and they are not so gentle, and 
their strength is more, and they are shaped differently; 
their hands and feet are larger; but all these differences 
there might be between two boys, I should think. 

Q. You say you read about reproduction ; do you know 
what it is? A. Flowers have blossoms which will turn to 
seed and these reproduce flowers again. 

Q. How is it with men ? A. I do not know about that ; 
I imagine it is something like flowers. 

Q. You do not see the necessity of there being men and 
women ? A. I do not understand it. I hope I will under- 
stand some time. 



CHAPTER VI 



BIOGRAPHY 



The Rev. Thos. Hanna has a good family history, with 
no neurotic taint. Among his ancestors are men who have 
attained positions of eminence. The family history can be 
traced to a time dating almost to the arrival of the May- 
flower. On the father's side, Mr. Hanna is of Scotch-Irish 
descent, on the mother's side he is English. His maternal 
grandfather 1 was a missionary — a man of genius and of en- 
ergy of will. He became prominent as a writer in Oriental 
literature and also as the founder of extensive missions in 
the East. His maternal grandmother was a healthy, vig- 
orous and energetic woman, and attained fame in the lit- 
erary world. His paternal great-grandfather was a well- 
known writer in theology. His maternal great-grandfather 
was a surgeon of distinction and fought at Trafalgar under 
Nelson. His father is a man of good physique, healthy 
constitution, of high intellectual attainments, and possessed 
of a strong will and marked individuality. As a minister 
he leads a strictly moral life and is scrupulously con- 
scientious in his actions. 

He does not belong to the emotional type; he is rather 
quiet and stern. The mother is a perfectly healthy woman, 
a lady of a refined, kind and gentle nature. Mr. Hanna has 
three sisters and four brothers, all physically and mentally 
well. Among the near living relatives are men of prom- 
inence in the medical and clerical professions. There is no 
evidence of neurotic tendency in the lateral branches of the 
family. 

1 Adonirani Judson. 
128 



BIOGRAPHY 129 

Mr. Hanna was born in the year 1872. All condi- 
tions at birth were favorable and normal. At birth he 
was well formed and proved to be a well-developed infant. 
His early infancy was free from disease; he suffered only 
from those ailments incident to babyhood. He began to 
talk at the age of eighteen months. He was not precocious ; 
his mental and physical development was that character- 
istic of the average normal child. He showed a ready 
though not extraordinary facility of acquiring knowledge. 
He showed the usual interest in the sports and plays of 
children. He was rather quiet, though not of a shy and re- 
tiring character. He was not quarrelsome or mischievous. 

Up to his eleventh year he showed no signs of illness. 
At the age of eleven he had a slight attack of malaria. 
From his eleventh to his sixteenth year we find him again 
free from ill health. At this time he suffered from an 
inflammatory condition of the gums. One thing is appar- 
ent in the life of Mr. Hanna, and that is the absence of 
any illness of a serious nature. 

The young man had all the advantages of an excellent 
education. At the age of eight years he entered the public 
school, where he was a good scholar and regular attendant. 
At an early age he showed an especial interest in the study 
of languages and possessed a ready facility in acquiring 
them. Upon the return of his parents to Philadelphia he 
entered the Manual Training High School. High attain- 
ments in the latter institution gained for him a scholarship 
at the University of Pennsylvania. He was one of the best 
students at the manual training school. His scholarship 
admitted him to any department of the university. His 
preference for architectural work was largely determined 
by his love for the harmonious and the beautiful. His ver- 
satility is shown by the fact that he had been at one time a 
mechanical draughtsman, had done electrical work, and 
even spent some time as a carpenter. He was also em- 
ployed as a telegraph operator in the ticket office and other 
10 



130 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

departments of the railroad. Finally he passed examina- 
tion as an architect. He was also a writer for a Philadel- 
phia journal. 

Mr. Hanna was fond of music and showed a good deal 
of talent in acquiring familiarity with several musical in- 
struments. On the whole, he had an artistic taste in many 
directions. 

As to his emotional nature, he seemed neither of an ex- 
citable nor of an impulsive character, and was not demon- 
strative in his affections. He was possessed of a strong will 
and capable of perfect self-control. He was not hasty to 
take offence, but was not one who readily forgot an offence 
once given. He was not vindictive or implacable. He was 
benevolent and sympathetic in nature and ready to alleviate 
pain and suffering. These qualities seemed less prompted 
by sentimentalism or tender-heartedness than by principle. 
He was a man influenced more by reason than by emotion. 
There was, however, no sternness about him, and he could 
readily enter into the sentiments and feelings of others. 
He had a keen appreciation of the humorous and took de- 
light in comic periodicals and was an occasional contributor 
to the humorous journals. 

He could easily win the confidence of young folks and 
possessed unusual facility in the cultivation and mainten- 
ance of friendship. He could always make friends easily 
and knew well how to get along with individuals. In fact, 
he was one who could attract people. 

His religious feelings developed rather early. As a Bap- 
tist, he could not enter the church and be baptized until he 
had made a profession of faith before the elders. This con- 
sists in a declaration of the recognition of his religious guilt 
and a desire for religious conversion. 

In this relation Mr. Hanna, we may say, was rather pre- 
cocious. The average age of conversion among the Baptists 
is about fifteen, while in his case the sense of guilt was 
awakened at about his tenth year. This sense of guilt, how- 



BIOGRAPHY 131 

ever, was not very intense, as would have been the case in 
an emotional, nervous child, but was rather of an intellect- 
ual sort. He was more familiar with the Bible than is the 
ordinary child. This may, on the one hand, be ascribed to 
the fact that his father was a minister, and on the other, to 
the intelligence of the boy himself. 

He displayed no remarkable degree of feeling during 
his religious experience of conversion, but seemed to feel 
comfort and peace. On the whole, the boy was very sin- 
cere, without displaying any marked religious excitement. 
Altogether, we would say he was like "a sensible little 
boy," as his father characterized this period of the child's 
experience. 

At the end of the second year of young Hanna's uni- 
versity life, we find his religious interests again strongly 
awakened. He felt the conviction of a call to the ministry. 
Although his determination was met by discouragement on 
the part of his family, he remained firm in his resolution 
and left the architectural school to take up theological 
studies. This resolution, however, was not of sudden origin. 
The religious sense seemed to have been awakened gradu- 
ally, but gained strength during the young man's intellect- 
ual, moral and religious growth. 

The change from an architectural to a theological field 
of work seemed to have come about not without an intense 
struggle for the young man. There was on the one hand a 
strong desire to finish the course in the university, a desire 
not to be fickle and not to change his purpose. There was 
also a strong desire to become an architect, because he de- 
lighted in architectural studies and believed himself fitted 
for the work. On the other hand, the religious conviction 
had reached such a degree as to overcome all these desires 
and determine his course to renounce secular studies and 
devote himself to the work of the Gospel. 

Religious feelings seemed to have been implanted within 
the young man in his early childhood. As the son of a 



132 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

clergyman, it was natural lie should be interested in clerical 
work at an early age. Mr. Hanna, when quite young, took 
an active interest in Sunday-school work and was a regular 
attendant at church and prayer meeting. He had much 
scriptural training and was unusually familiar with the 
Bible. At a very early age he was an ardent reader in the- 
ology, and upon this, as upon other subjects, he had read 
much more than the average young man, and had even ac- 
quired some knowledge of the Greek Testament. 

In order to take up scriptural work and pursue the- 
ological studies, the university not furnishing favorable en- 
vironment for religious life, the young man left the institu- 
tion to prepare for his newly chosen labor. 

To fit himself for the practical side of his adopted cleri- 
cal profession he went to the town of Hazelton, Pa., to do 
missionary work. He visited families, gathered them in 
prayer meetings, and preached to the people. Then he 
entered the Baptist College at Lewisville, Pa., and be- 
came a member of the junior class, where he carried on 
zealously theological studies. While there he was one of 
the best students, and graduated with high merit, gaining 
the degree of "Summa cum laude." He worked arduously 
while at the institution, taking all the elective courses open 
to him. 

Mr. Thomas Hanna took up clerical work not from 
pecuniary considerations, but rather from a profound sense 
of religious conviction for a work to which he felt himself 
called. After graduation he came to Plantsville and began 
to preach. He was immediately ordained. This was at the 
age of twenty-three. 

His active mind and an insatiable thirst for knowledge 
led him again to pursue theoretical studies ; he entered the 
theological school at Yale, New Haven, being only a short 
distance from his home. At this institution he studied the 
Bible and took up Hebrew. While he was carrying on 
studies at the university he devoted a large portion of his 



BIOGRAPHY 133 

time to his ministerial duties at Plantsville. He was very 
sociable and took an active interest in the social life of his 
congregation. Although a good scholar and possessed of 
great love for scientific work, he was not disposed to con- 
stant book application. He was very popular with the mem- 
bers of his congregation ; would go among the people visit- 
ing them, would become acquainted with the children, for 
whom he had a strong liking. 

He was very active, far more than the average clergy- 
man. He preached two sermons on the Sabbath, conducted 
regularly prayer meetings on the week-days, and at times 
also in the evening. So active was he in his religious work 
that he would have prayer meetings whenever he could ob- 
tain help. He used his every effort to awaken interest in a 
better religious and moral life. He greatly influenced young 
people. He was active in organizing young folks and in 
every way endeavored to inculcate religious ideas. At the 
same time, he never neglected to combine and harmonize 
the useful and the beautiful. At the religious services, 
music and song contributed to the interest and entertain- 
ment of the gatherings which the young minister carefully 
arranged. His preaching was invariably of extemporaneous 
character, never from manuscript. 

He was regular in his visits to the bedside of the sick, 
and contributed in every way within his means to charitable 
work. He was ardently devoted to the duties of his calling. 
To this he was prompted by the sympathetic side of his 
nature, by the earnestness of his views of life and by his 
deep and religious convictions. 

His ministerial duties and theological studies did not 
rob him of aesthetic feelings ; his appreciation of the beauti- 
ful in nature was as keen as ever and he greatly enjoyed the 
beautiful wherever he met it. He greatly appreciated nat- 
ural scenery and liked flowers and animals. 

Of an earnest and ardent nature, he was not too en- 
thusiastic and in no sense one of the class known among the 



134 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

world's "cranks." He took such interest in politics as is 
usual for the average professional man. He had, of course, 
political and reformatory ideas, as is but natural for an 
active, intelligent young man, but was not one of the class 
of young people who think they have the one ideal of social 
and political life necessary for the world's salvation. He 
had no nostrums or panaceas for all human woes. 

"We may therefore say that Mr. Hanna in all respects 
was a man of well-balanced and normal mental constitution, 
without the least trace of disposition to any of the neuroses. 
He was not (before the accident) subject to distressing 
dreams. His sleep was quiet, never disturbed by talking or 
wanderings. 

After a careful examination, therefore, we found Mr. 
Hanna to be a young man of perfect mental and physical 
constitution before the disorder occurred, which almost in- 
stantaneously effected a profound change of his conscious 
being. 



CHAPTER VII 

REVELATIONS FROM DREAM LIFE, 

We here reproduce almost verbatim some extracts from 
our notes made during our visit to Mr. Hanna at his home 
in Plantsville, Conn., May 26, 1897. He was at this time 
confined to his bed, suffering from injury to the spine in 
consequence of a fall from his horse. This occurred some 
weeks after the original accident of April 15. It produced, 
however, no psychic effect, leaving him in the same state 
of secondary personality. 

"Mr. Hanna is still in amnesic condition; he has abso- 
lutely no recollection of any life experience before the 
accident. He has memory only for such experiences of life 
as have occurred since the injury. He is as one newly born, 
just entering into life. His knowledge, bound up in his 
personal identity, dates only from the time of the accident. 
He will say 'I know' of certain events occurring since 
April 15. Of experiences previous to that time, he knows 
only as information acquired from others. He regards 
these events related to him as if having occurred in the life 
of quite another person. No memory of his previous life 
spontaneously occurs to him. The time of the accident may 
therefore be considered as the boundary-line between two 
distinct and separate lives of the same individual ; what oc- 
curred in his former life, before the accident, is unknown 
to the personality formed after the accident. So that we 
may say two personalities dwell ivithin the same individual. 
The one seems dead, crushed in the accident, and the other 
the living one, whose knowledge is but a few weeks old." 
This was the general mental condition in which we found 
Mr. Hanna when we visited him on May 26. 

135 



136 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

The interest lies in the question whether any experi- 
ences of his former life still exist within the mind of Mr. 
Hanna of which he is not cognizant. In short, the inter- 
est now lies in the possibility of tapping the subconscious 
life which may perhaps contain memories of former expe- 
riences. In case such memories exist, their presence will 
prove that the injury is really not organic, but rather of a 
functional character. It will at the same time indicate the 
presence of two memories, neither of which is cognizant 
of the other's existence. 

The problem now is, what shall be the method of in- 
vestigation? How shall we tap the subconscious, so that 
it shall reveal the treasury of lost memories? There are 
many methods of carrying out this work, but the simplest 
and most feasible is the inquiry into the character of his 
dreams. 

Mr. Hanna was asked if he had any dreams, and the 
answer was that he had. ' ' They are of two kinds, ' ' he said. 
' ' One is unlike the other ; in the one kind the pictures are 
weak, and I cannot easily bring them up before my mind 
clearly; the other kind I can easily see and feel clearly 
again, as though they were before me. The picture 
dreams," he continued, "come in the morning; they are 
not like the other dreams ; they are too strong and plain. ' ' 
We reproduce Mr. Hanna 's words in order to make clear 
the difference between the two forms of dreams. The sig- 
nificance of the "picture dreams" is of vital importance. 

It turned out that the dreams characterized by Mr. 
Hanna as "clear picture dreams," and which we may term 
vivid ones, were really experiences that had occurred in li is 
former life. He, however, did not recognize them as such 
and considered them simply as strange dreams of his pres- 
ent life. 

In these vivid or "clear picture dreams," incidents, 
names of persons, of objects, of places, were arising from 
the depths of Mr. Hanna 's subconscious life. They were not 



DREAM LIFE 137 

recognized by him ; they seemed to him so strange, so totally 
unfamiliar. He mentioned names of persons, of objects, of 
places which to him in his waking state were perfectly 
meaningless, empty sounds. They were, however, under- 
stood by the parents, who were familiar with the son's for- 
mer life experiences. When Mr. Hanna began to relate his 
dreams and the experiences he was passing through in those 
peculiar, strong, vivid picture dreams, the parents, who had 
almost despaired of their son ever again regaining recol- 
lection of his past life, were most amazed and overjoyed 
at this first evidence of a resurrection of what they had 
feared were forever buried memories. 

To pass now to the dreams. The first dream described 
was the following: He saw a railroad with a shed on one 
side; he saw letters as if cut out with a knife (he probably 
referred to letters standing out in relief) ; then there was 
a yard with a fence around it, and in the yard were 
strange people, tall and with light hair; they were picking 
flowers. 

Then he says he finds himself on a white and soft road, 
"never [Mr. Hanna uses 'never' as meaning 'since the acci- 
dent,' as he has no memory for what occurred before] saw 
anything like it. " A man stood at his side, whom he called, 
although not knowing why, by the name of Bustler. The 
father afterward told us that Bustler was the name of a 
minister, a friend of Mr. Hanna 's. He could describe the 
man fully. He was tall, but not fat ; he had a coat rounded 
in front and of a black color. They came up together to the 
railroad. Mr. Hanna carried with him a satchel, with a 
brown strap, held up in front of him. (The description was 
found to be correct. ) The man whom he called Bustler then 
turned to him and said : " I thank you for helping me yes- 
terday." (Father thought that this remark was occasioned 
by the fact that his son probably assisted Rev. Mr. Bustler 
in conducting services the day before.) In his dreams he 
heard that the place was called "Cemetery"; he does not 



138 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

know whether cemetery is a name nor does he know what 
the word means. Then the man Bustler went away, leaving 
Mr. Hanna alone. Near the railroad he saw a square house, 
and upon it were the letters N-E-W-B-O-S-T-O-N-J-U-N-C. 
(Mr. Hanna did not pronounce the words, but spelled out 
the letters) ; he knows, he says, what "New" means, but 
does not understand the meaning of the rest. The rail- 
road divides here into two parts, thus : Y ; he himself 
walked up on the left side of the road ; he had a watch, he 
"never saw anything like it"; "it is of such a color," and 
he pointed out a book, the covers of which were of a silver 
color. The watch he saw in the dream had the XII marked 
near the winder instead of being in the same position as 
on the face of the watch that was lying by his side upon 
the table. The dream watch had a cover; he "had never 
seen such a watch before." 

As he walked along, he saw on the left side of the road 
a great black building with big black lumps like coal, al- 
though he had never, he said, seen such large pieces. (He 
had only seen stove coal since the accident.) He also saw a 
horse with long ears and "with a tail like a cow." "Never 
saw anything like it." The horse produced such queer 
sounds. (The animal he saw in the dream was evidently 
an ass; he had not seen one since the accident.) He called 
that black building ' ' brakes. ' ' ( The reader 's attention must 
be called to the fact that Mr. Hanna lived in Pennsylvania 
in the extensive coal districts, and the scenes he passed 
through in his "vivid" dreams are those commonly seen in 
that section of the country.) Then there was another pict- 
ure. There was no black building; there were ashes in- 
stead. Then he saw a brick house; he "never saw anything 
like it. " When asked how he knew it was a brick house, he 
replied that it was made up of the same material as a brick 
chimney, and he pointed to one seen through the window 
of his room. At this point Mr. Hanna said he became 
hungary ; went into the building and bought gingerbread 



DREAM LIFE 139 

for five cents ; also saw near by ' ' horses with long ears and 
tails like cows." 

Mr. Hanna described another picture, in which he had 
another companion, whom he called, for no known reason, 
Ray W. Schuyler. In his dream he heard that the name of 
the place was "Morea." (We learned that Schuyler was 
the name of an old companion of Mr. Hanna 's school-days; 
that they had been together in Morea, a town in Pennsyl- 
vania.) Mr. Hanna found himself walking in fields of 
deep snow. "Never saw such deep snow." He heard in 
the dream that the "white stuff" was called snow. He 
saw a pond; the pond was very deep, "up to the knees"; 
it was "awful work" to walk; he felt very warm from 
walking; then there was also another pond, and near it a 
house made of stone. He was now "walking up and down 
hill, and so without end." (We learned later that these 
journeys and the scenes witnessed were actual experiences 
in Mr. Hanna 's former life.) 

The father, who was present when the dreams were re- 
lated by the son, could identify the places spoken of as well 
as their names and also the persons mentioned. The de- 
scription of the individuals in the dreams was found to be 
correct. When the father happened to mention the name 
"Martinoe," Mr. Hanna at once said, "Oh, yes, that was 
the name of the place I passed through, but, ' ' exclaimed he, 
"how do you know of it?" When the father interposed 
and described more fully what Mr. Hanna saw, the latter 
with great wonder and amazement exclaimed, "How can 
you know all this, it was only a dream ! ' ' There was indeed 
mutual surprise, as father and son gazed in wonder at each 
other. The father was surprised at the unexpected appear- 
ances of old but unrecognized experiences of the son; the 
latter was quite as much taken aback by what to him ap- 
peared to be his father's supernatural intelligence. 

When Mr. Hanna was asked about the meaning of the 
inscription N-E-W-B-O-S-T-O-N-J-U-N-C, he could under- 



140 MULTIPLE PERSON ALITY 

stand the meaning of the word ' ' new " ; he had learned it 
since the accident, but the other syllables were unintelli- 
gible to him ; he could not even form them into words. He 
was then asked to guess as to the probable meaning of the 
letters B-O-S-T-O-N. He replied, "It might be the name 
of the building." When asked to try again, he said, "It 
might be the name of a place," but he could not compre- 
hend why the term "New" should be prefixed to it. On 
second thought, however, he remembered that he had re- 
cently learned of the existence of such names as New Lon- 
don and New Haven, and he therefore concluded that New 
Boston might be the name of a place. 

Mr. Hanna 's present retentiveness of memory was then 
tested. Ten numerals were given to him. The numerals 
were read at intervals of a second. Of these he remembered 
the first six and all of them in the order read. Ten "non- 
sense syllables" were read to him at intervals of a second, 
of which he remembered the first five correctly and in the 
order read to him. Greek sentences were read to him; the 
first one had fourteen words, of which he remembered five 
correctly and in the order read. Although Mr. Hanna had 
been a good Greek scholar, he had no recollection of the 
character or meaning of the words. Long Latin phrases 
were read to him and he repeated them almost exactly, 
though with no recognition of them. 

The Hebrew Bible was then taken, and as Mr. Hanna 
had once been well versed in Hebrew Scripture, the first 
sentence in Genesis was read to him. It was expected that 
possibly old memories would be brought up. The method 
of "hypnoidization" 1 was used. This method is most 
effective in the diagnosis of cases of amnesia in general, 
and was found to be of great value in this case. Mr. Hanna 
was asked to close his eyes and put his hands to his fore- 
head and listen with all possible effort and attention to 
the reading of the Hebrew phrase. The phrase was read 
1 See Sidis, The Psychology of Suggestions, chap. xxii. 



DREAM LIFE 141 

to him and the experimenter stopped abruptly in the mid- 
dle of the sentence. He suddenly exclaimed, "I remem- 
ber!" and began at the beginning and ran through the 
entire paragraph, which had not been read to him. With 
the exception of a few stray words, he at once forgot 
everything he had just correctly recited. The flood of 
memories that had arisen to consciousness suddenly sub- 
sided again and fell into the depths of his subconscious 
life. It had come with such a force that he said, "It 
frightened me; it seemed as if another being was speaking 
through me." 

"When he was asked if he knew the meaning of the He- 
brew phrase or if he had ever heard it before, he said he 
did not. In short, not only was the feeling of recognition 
of the phrase absent, but also that of familiarity ; the words 
seemed to him bizarre, quite strange. 



CHAPTER VIII 

UPHEAVALS OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS 

By the method of hypnoidization, many memories were 
brought to the surface from the depths of the subcon- 
scious. Each time some forgotten experience of the life 
previous to the accident flashed upon his mind. These ex- 
periences were never recognized as in any way familiar; 
they were to him utterly strange. In these hypnoidal 
states, names, objects, parts of scenes rose up vividly in 
Mr. Hanna's mind. It was most interesting to observe him 
at this time. The experiences that came up before his con- 
sciousness stood out completely isolated in his mind, with 
no conscious relations whatever to any other experiences. 
It was impossible by getting hold of these experiences that 
suddenly emerged from his subconscious regions, to obtain 
by contiguous association more information. He could not 
recognize the meaning of these emerged mental states, 
as they had no relation to any others within his upper 
consciousness. 

The absence of association in hypnoidal states was at 
times made strikingly manifest when merely isolated names 
came up to the upper stratum of his consciousness, names 
which he had not heard since the accident, and which con- 
veyed no meaning to him. It was not only the meaning and 
import of these ideas that were absent, but all familiarity 
was likewise lacking. 

We know from a previous examination that he was 

unable to recognize any experience of his former life. He 

had no recognition for persons and objects known before 

the accident. When he came in contact with persons or 

142 



SUBCONSCIOUS UPHEAVALS 143 

objects well known to him in his previous state, in spite 
of all our efforts to impress the experiences strongly on 
his mind and reproduce their associations in order to 
bring recognition to the light of conscious memory, in 
spite of his own intense mental strain to recall the lost 
memories, not even the vaguest sense of familiarity was 
awakened in his mind. Events that had played a most im- 
portant part in his life were recounted to him; persons 
near and dear to him endeavored to remind him of their 
close relationship, but all without avail. Father, mother, 
brother, sister, and the young woman to whom he had 
been sincerely devoted, all were utter strangers to him, 
and even daily contact and frequent association awakened 
no sense of familiarity. No impression coming from the 
external world could bring up any recognition or sense of 
familiarity. 

In turning now to the hypnoidal states, we find that 
when any scene or word or name came up before his mind, 
it was quite as completely wanting in the two elements, 
recognition and familiarity. A name, for example, came 
up before his mind, and when asked of what he was think- 
ing, he would simply give the name, but when we pushed 
our inquiry further and asked as to the meaning of the 
word, he replied he did not know. When told it was the 
name of a person or object, he was surprised that what ap- 
peared to him as a combination of "nonsense syllables," 
spontaneously arising in his mind, should really have a 
definite meaning. When he was asked, if he had any vague 
feeling of ever having heard the word, he invariably re- 
plied in the negative. Still more remarkable was the fact 
that at times, in the hypnoidal states, an entire scene arose 
before his mind; he could describe the scene immediately, 
exactly as he saw it in his mind's eye, but that was all he 
knew of it. He could not connect it with any experiences 
of a former life. 

As an example of the hypnoidal states, we may mention 



144 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

the psychic condition of Mr. Hanna during the recital of 
the previously described Hebrew passage. During the 
repetition of the Hebrew phrase, a flood of Hebrew pas- 
sages came into the patient's mind; he expressed them 
aloud, but when asked what the meaning was, he did not 
know. They were totally unfamiliar to him, a strange gib- 
berish. When asked why he recited more than was read 
to him, he could give no reason, and said he himself was 
frightened at the sudden outburst of a flood of meaningless 
words. 

Furthermore, while the memory for the part read to 
him was good, that for the passage brought up in the hyp- 
noidal states was vague and fragmentary. He could re- 
member only a few individual words. It was also of 
importance to note that his inflection and pronunciation 
of the passage greatly differed from that of the reader. 

It was most interesting to observe the decided change in 
tone and manner of the recital of the Hebrew passage which 
in the hypnoidal state arose from the subconscious to the 
surface of his mind. His voice became strong and sonorous, 
and he spoke impressively as though from the pulpit. It 
seemed as if the words burst forth spontaneously in a mo- 
ment of inspiration. The memory subsided as quickly as it 
rose. It did not, however, completely disappear. He could 
recall a few isolated words, and he remembered that his in- 
flection and tone had changed, but by no means was it pos- 
sible to awaken any sense of recognition or familiarity. 

As an instance of another hypnoidal state, we may men- 
tion the following: Miss C, a charming young woman, 
to whom he was greatly devoted in his former life, but 
whom he did not know in the state of secondary personality, 
was directed to take his hand and sing a hymn that the 
young man had heard before, but not since the injury. 
He was told to remain absolutely quiet and listen atten- 
tively. During the song, which was most impressively ren- 
dered, he remained passive and his whole attention was con- 



SUBCONSCIOUS UPHEAVALS 145 

centrated on the song. At the end of the melody he was 
immediately asked if he had ever heard the song before. 
He said he had not, and that he had not the slightest recog- 
nition or feeling of familiarity. When asked what had 
come into his mind during the singing, he gave two names, 
A. and N. He did not know the meaning of the words ; he 
did not even suspect they were names. We learned that the 
names were those of two ladies whom he had met three 
years before. They had been choir-singers. Here again the 
names awakened neither familiarity, nor association, even 
after he was told of scenes and places relating to them. 



11 



CHAPTER IX 

PICTURE DREAMS AND SUBCONSCIOUS STATES 

In the waking state Mr. Hanna could not give further 
data as to his dreams, and interrogation brought out no 
more than we have mentioned. Hence, an attempt was 
made to put him into the hypnoidal state, and with the 
material afforded by his dreams to get further informa- 
tion, to bring up entire scenes before his mind, and to find 
out the nature of the psychic state during the emergence 
of these visual images. (We must here remind the reader 
that the dreams were intensely vivid to Mr. Hanna.) He 
was put into the hypnoidal state by the usual method, 
directing him to remain quiet and passive, to listen in- 
tently, with closed eyes, to what was told to him, and to 
tell us what was passing in his mind, to represent to him- 
self his former "picture dreams." 

We here give full notes of the experiments, as they are 
both interesting and instructive. 

Q. What do you see now ? A. I see a house with two or 
three steps. 

Q. What more? A. Mr. Bustler and I are sitting on 
one seat. 

Q. Do you know, or have you met the man you call 
Bustler ? A. No. I saw him only in the dream. 

Q. What more? A. There is a woman. The woman 
prepared his dinner. She is sitting on the other side. 

Q. Describe the table, books, pictures, if you see any; 
try to see them fully ; give close attention to what you see. 
Go on and describe. A. I can 't see anything more. 

Q. Do you see the woman ? A. Yes. 

146 



SUBCONSCIOUS STATES 147 

Q. How does the woman look? A. Can't see her well. 

Q. Try as hard as possible to see her. Is she old or 
young? A. I think rather young. 

Q. How old do you think she is? (No answer.) 

Q. Is she about forty-five? A. I don't think so; per- 
haps. 

Q. Is she thirty ? Just say how old you think she is. A. 
I don't know how old people are. (He was as yet unable 
to estimate the age of an individual from personal appear- 
ance.) 

Q. How is she dressed? How does she look? (He did 
not answer the first question.) A. She is very stout. 

Q. What is the color of her hair? A. I don't see her 
hair. 

Q. Do you know her ? A. No. 

Q. Do you see the door of the house ? A. Yes. 

Q. How does the door open? A. Inside. 

Q. Is it open or closed ? A. It is open. 

Q. Look into the room and tell us what you see there? 
A. Nothing. 

Q. Nothing at all? A. Yes, I see a little hall ; that's all. 

Q. Try hard and you will be able to see more. Peep into 
the hall and tell us what is in there? A. No, I don't see 
anything. 

Q. Look into the street, then, and tell us what you see 
there? A. I see people. People walking by, two or three 
times. 

Q. Do you know them ? A. No. 

Q. Describe the houses that are in the street. A. They 
are very close, are built close together, like down by the 
watering-trough at Plantsville. 

Q. Do you see any other houses? A. No, I cannot see. 
I see only the buildings. They are all the same. (He prob- 
ably saw a row of houses.) 

Q. Have they numbers or any signs? A. I cannot see. 

Q. Try to see ; you can if you will try. You will be able 



148 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

to see well. Look down or up the street. Do you see any- 
thing more that especially interests you 1 ? A. There is a 
Catholic Church down the street (the word "Catholic" 
came spontaneously in his mind, as is usual in the hypnoidal 
states) . 

Q. How does the church look? A. Beautiful. 

Q. Describe it to me. A. It is not all built. 

Q. Describe as much as you can. A. It is made of brick. 

Q. What more ? A. Roof is only half made. 

Q. What more? A. Steeple. 

Q. Give more particulars. A. I cannot find names. (He 
was at this time deficient in familiarity with many common 
names.) 

Q. Describe it as well as you can. A. I cannot tell. 
Big braces on the steeple. 

Q. Anything written on the church? A. Nothing. 

Q. How do the windows look ? A. Glass is colored ; one 
window is not made. 

Q. What more can you tell about the church ? You can 
describe it. Just do it. A. The church stands right by the 
hill. A high wall stands up, very high, right over the road. 

Q. What more? A. That makes me very tired. (Here 
the hypnoidal state was interrupted. He was asked to open 
his eyes.) 

Q. Do you remember anything that you told me? A. 
Yes. 

Q. What did you tell me? A. I told you all about the 
house and the people and the church. 

Here the father put the f ollowing question to his son : 

' ' What church was it ? The Polish or the Irish church ? ' ' 
A. I couldn't tell. 

(Mr. Hanna did not know the meaning of Polish or 
Irish, just as he did not know that of Catholic.) 

Here the father gave a description of the city seen by 
the son in hypnoidal state. It was Mackinong City. He 
said: "Mackinong City lies in a valley between parallel 



SUBCONSCIOUS STATES 149 

ranges, and the southern one is evidently the one he 
means. ' ' 

Q. (To father.) How long is it since he lived there ? A. 
Three years. 

Q. (To Mr. H.) Did you ever see that church? A. No. 

Q. When did the church first come into your mind ? A. 
In the dream ; but I couldn 't see it all. 

Q. Do you have an impression when you see all this, as 
if it is something more than a dream? A. It is more like a 
dream or a story, but papa says it is true. 

Q. Have you any feeling that this is not entirely a 
dream, but something that is true? A. I know what you 
mean, out I cannot see that way. I could remember all if I 
could see that way. I must just be satisfied with the picture. 

Here we endeavored to make clear to him the difference 
between an impression just gained and one received in the 
past. We mentioned to him some proper names of cities 
which he had not heard since the accident, and a few 
minutes later repeated the same names. We then asked 
him if there was not a difference in his impressions as made 
by just hearing the names and those occasioned by hearing 
the names for the first time a few minutes ago. 

Q. Now, in the dreams, were your impressions in this 
sense like the first or second hearing of the names read ? A. 
It is not strange now, but it was all strange before, like the 
first. 

Q. How was it in the dream itself; were the impres- 
sions strange as in the first reading? A. Oh, yes, it was 
very strange. I could not believe it was true until father 
told me ; but now it is not strange. 

The hypnoidal states, in which material from his forgot- 
ten life came up suddenly into Mr. Hanna's mind, strongly 
indicated the presence of former memories in the subcon- 
scious regions. Tests of his intelligence pointed to the same 
conclusion, namely, that the lapsed memories were still 
present in a more or less sound condition. For it would 



150 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

be unreasonable to assume that one who had lost completely 
all possession of the rich material of his whole life experi- 
ence could possibly acquire so much in so short a time, 
could be so intelligent, reason so well, and arrange his ideas 
in a proper and logical order. Intelligence depends upon 
memory. One who is an infant in all relations as to the 
stock of experiences, both conscious and subconscious, can- 
not possibly be a good reasoner. A newly born babe is not 
a good logician. Evidently memories of his former life ex- 
isted, though buried deeply in the underground regions of 
the subconscious, and it was from these regions that in the 
hypnoidal states bits of experience flashed, lightning-like, 
into the upper waking consciousness. 

Mr. Hanna was given various arithmetical problems to 
solve. He had as yet learned but very little of arithmetic, 
and had acquired no knowledge of fractions. In order to 
test his intelligence and powers of reasoning, he was given 
the following problem to solve mentally : If three men, A, 
B and C, do a piece of work respectively in three, four and 
five days, how long would it take them to complete it, all 
working together? He arrived at the approximately cor- 
rect result almost immediately, and showed great keenness 
of mind. The common denominator to which he reduced 
the amount of work done by each man in one day, he repre- 
sented to himself as so many pieces of paper of equal size, 
made groups of them, taking for his numerators 12, 15 and 
20 respectively. Adding these together, he found how much 
work, represented in terms of the bits of paper, the men 
could do in one day, namely, forty-seven. From this he 
concluded that the entire work, represented by sixty pieces, 
would require one whole day and about one-fourth more. 

It is interesting to observe that he, at this time, had as 
yet learned nothing of fractions, was even unable to form 
the numeral five, not having seen that particular figure 
since the injury. When asked why, in his calculation, he 
had taken just sixty objects, he replied that he could not 



SUBCONSCIOUS STATES 151 

tell why, but that it appeared evident to him. It was clear 
from this and other experiments that it was the experi- 
ences buried within the subconscious that enabled him to 
solve the problem. 

Geometrical problems were likewise given to him. He 
had learned in an elementary way something of angles, per- 
pendiculars and so on. The first problem was the well- 
known theorem, that vertical angles are equal to each other. 
As he did not know what "vertical" meant, the term was 
explained and diagrams drawn and shown to him. After 
some moments of thought he demonstrated the theorem. 
It was interesting to note that his process of reasoning was 
quite analogous to that ordinarily given in geometry. 
When he was asked whether he had any sense of famil- 
iarity with such work, he replied it was entirely new to him. 

The familiar theorem of Pythagoras was given in a con- 
crete form expressed in numbers. "Suppose," he was 
asked, "you have a right-angled triangle [the meaning of 
the term was explained to him], of which one side is three 
and the other four inches, what will be the length of the 
third side?" After some thought, he said he believed that 
the third side would measure five inches. The reason he 
could not give; it seemed to him that the length ought to 
be five. When pressed for a reason, he measured the line 
and showed it was so. Other less complex problems given 
him, he solved in his own crude way, although the results 
were uniformly correct. Here again we see clearly the 
subconscious work of memories lost to the upper con- 
sciousness. 

As a further evidence of the remarkable intelligence of 
Mr. Hanna due to the work of memories, lost to the upper 
self-conscious personality, but present to the lower sub- 
conscious, we may mention the following interesting ex- 
periments: Mr. Hanna was taken to the family church at 
Plantsville, a place intimately associated with his religious 
life and activity, where the foundation of his religious 



152 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

convictions was laid, where he had been baptized, where his 
father had preached for many years, and later where he 
himself had so often conducted services and given relig- 
ious instruction. 

He was told to stand upon the pulpit, the Bible was 
opened before him, and he was told to read the first pas- 
sage in Genesis. Then he was asked to preach a short ser- 
mon, the subject of which was very remote from the actual 
meaning of the passage. We wanted to test the keenness of 
his intellect, his analytical powers in discriminating ideas 
and bringing out points. 

He was asked to point out how the text, "In the begin- 
ning God created heaven and earth," shows that man 
should be good. He had not read the passage since the ac- 
cident and was unfamiliar with it. "When he mounted the 
pulpit his naivete and childishness were shown by the re- 
mark, ' ' Papa stands very proud here. ' ' His entire deport- 
ment in the church indicated that he did not realize the 
solemnity of the place. He had not yet learned of this. 
His deportment before the accident was one in every way 
in keeping with the dignity of his holy office. His man- 
ner of entering the church was one indicating curiosity, 
although that was not his first visit since the accident. He 
remarked that he could hardly believe he had ever stood in 
the pulpit as a preacher "like papa." 

Mr. Hanna gazed helplessly into the ponderous volume 
of the Holy Scripture, but could not believe he had ever 
been familiar with it. He slowly began to read the text, 
"In the beginning God," and stopped; he could not read 
the word "created." The word was pronounced to him 
and its meaning made clear. He finished the verse and 
then repeated it from memory, ' ' In the beginning God cre- 
ated heaven and earth." He was now asked to close his 
eyes and deliver his extemporaneous sermon. He began as 
follows : 

' ' Created means make, as you said. If God made heaven 



SUBCONSCIOUS STATES 153 

and earth, He must be very much more great than you and 
I could be. This, I think, is a good reason for being good. 
If God made these things in the beginning, then He must 
have been long before we have been, and if He has been so 
long, as He has been able to make heaven and earth, it 
is wise for us to be like Him, and He is good. I think that is 
a good reason for being good. Is that what you mean?" 

In these experiments, we reproduce verbatim the words 
of Mr. Hanna. The reader must bear in mind Mr. Hanna's 
extremely limited vocabulary at this time. 

"If God made heaven and earth both, if they are both 
made by the same one, they ought to be both alike, and we 
know that heaven is good [he probably heard this from his 
father], and so people on earth ought to be like heaven. 
That is another reason why they must be good. Because 
one person made them both, and they ought to be alike." 
(Here he paused for some time, then continued.) "If God 
made the earth, He must have had a reason for making the 
earth ; He must have wanted the earth for something, and if 
God is only good, He must have wanted the earth for some 
good thing, and then if we are not good and do not make the 
earth good, we have opposed what God wanted to make the 
earth for. So I think that is another reason not to oppose 
why God made the earth." (He evidently wanted to say 
we should not oppose the will of God, but neither the con- 
cept nor the word indicating it was present in his upper 
consciousness.) Long pause. "I think those are all the 
reasons I can find. ' ' 

About a week later he was asked to repeat his sermon. 
He gave the substance of it, though not the exact words. 
He logically classified it under four heads, as follows: 1, 
Justice; 2, Wisdom; 3, Carrying out the design; 4, Har- 
mony between heaven and earth. (Mr. Hanna expressed 
his ideas in long sentences and explanations, but we give 
them in an abbreviated form.) "Just try to form a 
prayer," he was told. He replied, "My papa at home 



154 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

kneels down ; shall I kneel down ? ' ' He was told to do so. 
He knelt with bowed head. "I cannot get any words," he 
said. ' ' Take time, the words will come to you. ' ' Here fol- 
lowed a pause and he began slowly, as follows: "I wish 
that my memory would be all right, but I cannot make my- 
self right ; and my memory — I must wait until God can in 
some way get it back. I do not know how it will come, but 
I have tried every way I can think, and the doctors have 
tried everything they know, and all the people have been 
doing everything kind that they can, and even now I must 
wait. It cannot come now. But I am ready to do anything 
for it to come back, or else I am content to wait until it is 
right for it to come back. Sometimes it is very hard to 
wait. Sometimes I am content with what I have got. I 
wish more for other people than for myself that it would 
come back, because they feel much more than I feel, to lose 
so much; but they have no more power than I have, so 
we must all wait, and try to do the best we have known." 
^Long applause.) 

Mr. Hanna then arose and said : ' ' Father never kneels 
down to pray when in the pulpit. He only kneels down at 
home." This commonplace and to him in his former state 
perhaps profane remark, after offering a prayer, exquis- 
itely illustrates his innocence and simplicity of mind. He 
did not realize in this psychic state the solemnity of the 
prayer and the sanctity of the occasion. 

Q. Did you find anything coming into your mind while 
you were praying? A. No, I cannot do anything with 
my memory. 

[Q. But did you get memories coming to you ? A. Never 
when I try ; it makes me very tired to try. 

Q. Have you no recollection, have you no feeling of 
familiarity, that you have been in this place preaching and 
praying? A. I do not know how I used to do. Father 
stands away fom the book like this (imitating his father) ; 
I do not know. 



SUBCONSCIOUS STATES 155 

Q. Have you not any feeling of familiarity ; a feeling of 
which you cannot give yourself an account, that once you 
were in this very place, in this very pulpit, and that you 
were preaching to people, and that you prayed in this very 
place ; that you were baptized here ; simply a feeling just as 
if you see something, but not clearly? A. No, except that 
my father was here. (Since the accident.) That makes it 
somewhat familiar to me. What did you mean by "bap- 
tize"? 

Q. Don't you know what "baptize" means? A. No. 

Q. What do you think the word may mean? A. I do 
not know ; but they have shown me people that I have bap- 
tized, but I did not ask what it meant. (Mr. Hanna found 
it embarrassing in the company of strangers to repeatedly 
ask the meaning of words which he felt were so familiar to 
others.) It has something to do with their coming to 
church. 

All these experiments together with the hypnoidal 
states clearly indicate that Mr. Hanna 's subconscious was 
in a sound condition. 



CHAPTER X 

RESURRECTION OP OUTLIVED PERSONALITIES 

We wished now to get into direct touch with Mr. 
Hanna 's subconscious life. We therefore arranged to 
watch him constantly at night and study his dream states, 
and watch especially for the recurrence of what he charac- 
terized as "picture dreams." 

On May 28, about five in the mornirjg, after a fairly 
good night 's rest, Mr. Hanna became restless. He was very 
gently touched and asked what the matter was. We did 
not wish to awaken him, but to insinuate ourselves into his 
mental states and to sound his consciousness. When softly 
spoken to, he replied without opening his eyes. Even when 
pinched and pricked he was not aroused. In his natural 
sleep he is very sensitive; the slightest stimuli awaken 
him. It was not so, however, in this psychic state, a state 
that may be characterized as hypnoidic, which consists in 
a hallucinatory recurrence of former life experiences, a 
resurrection of outlived personalities. 

Mr. Hanna was at this time apparently having sensa- 
tions of chill and was shivering greatly. His face expressed 
great agitation and pain. When asked what the trouble 
was, he exclaimed, ' ' Oh, it is terrible ! " To our questions, 
"Where are you now?" he replied, "Mt. Jewett." "St. 
George 's. ' ' 

Q. What are you doing there? A. She is falling. 
Thunder, wind, rain. (Shivers intensely.) Let us go on, 
we will save her. 

Q. Who is the woman? What is her name? A. No 
name. She cries, "Fur God's name, help me." (He said 

156 



OUTLIVED PERSONALITIES 157 

fiir instead of for, repeating the broken English used by 
the woman.) She has two sick children. Mt. Jewett is 
five miles away. Must carry the woman and the child. 

Q. Is there only one child? A. Only one child. Oh, 
oh, I am so cold. (He shivers; shows great suffering from 
cold.) ''Oh, the mountain, Mt. Jewett, we run." 

Q. What are you doing now? A. I drag the woman. 
The doctor gave her the bottle. Poor woman, so weak. 

Q. How old is the child? A. It is a little boy and his 
name is Carl. 

(Mr. Hanna rubs his eyes. Exclaims, "Poor old 
woman ! My heart is weak. ") 

He seems to make strenuous efforts ; says he is trying to 
climb over trees and stumps. 

At this point Dr. S., who was endeavoring to insinuate 
himself into Mr. Hanna 's thoughts, and to whom the pa- 
tient was replying, suggested that he (Dr. S.) was Mr. 
Bustler. This was done in order to test the extent of 
knowledge and experience present in this state; to see if 
he knew in this state what he did not know in his waking 
condition. Mr. Hanna, however, laughed us to scorn and 
said, ' ' Mr. Bustler is not here. He is twelve miles away. ' ' 
It was quite clear that we were now in direct touch with a 
personality different from the secondary one, and pos- 
sessing knowledge which the latter lacked. 

Q. Where are you now? A. Mt. Jewett. I fall over 
stumps. I climb over trees. 

A little later, when asked where he was, he replied: 
"Poor old home, child sings. Is so glad. Little child 
lying in bed. Dirty child." (He had evidently arrived at 
some place.) 

Q. What are you doing now? A. I am drinking beer. 

He was now asked if he knew Miss C. Mr. Hanna 
laughed, regarded the question as funny, irrelevant at this 
time ; said, "I don't Jcnoiv her yet; I know her later? From 
her to Mt. Jewett is a year." This we learned to be correct. 



158 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

The personality was in a peculiar psychic state, in which 
it was able to foresee its future life. It was as if we should 
possess prescience of what was to take place in the distant 
future. 

When asked to give the month of the year, he replied, 
"August." We insisted that it was May (the actual time), 
but he laughed scornfully and said, "I am sure it is Au- 
gust." "You cannot make me crazy." His experiences 
lived over again in this state had really occurred in Au- 
gust. 

When asked to describe the house where he had now ar- 
rived, he said, "It is a road-house. Tar-paper all over 
the roof; women are shrieking in the street. I am tired. 
Give me more beer." (Apparently addressing the woman.) 

Q. Who is in the room? A. A girl. She has a nice 
face, but unclean. Speaks English badly. 

Q. What is her name ? A. Girl says, ' ' I have no name. 
They call me Sal." 

At this point the character of the "vision" changed, 
and he passed into another state of consciousness with a dif- 
ferent content of experience. This time a boy personality 
emerged. He exclaimed, "Now we go to the island, Um- 
brella Island. It is beautiful. The oar-lock is broken off. 
Oh, this is beautiful ! ' ' WTien asked where he was, he ex- 
claimed, ' ' They have gone to supper ; Uncle Will and Hen. 
Take hold of fish-nets. Cannot row; oar-lock gone." 

He was again asked if he knew Miss C. Replied, "Don't 
know her, acquainted a long time after." 

When asked how old he was, said he was thirteen years. 
When asked if he knew Mr. Schuyler, said, "I know he is 
a man; don't know him yet." 

Asked where he was living, he replied, "In a cottage." 
Mr. Hanna was murmuring the names of his brothers and 
sisters. At this point the "vision" or hypnoidic state 
ceased and he awoke. 

On awakening from his vision state, he remembered the 



OUTLIVED PERSONALITIES 159 

vision itself very clearly; he could represent it to himself 
distinctly, reproduce it in all its details ; he could not, how- 
ever, recognize the experiences of his vision as events that 
had occurred in his past life before the accident. He did 
not know that Dr. S. conversed with him and led him to 
give answers, nor did he remember any of the many state- 
ments made by him in his "vision" state. He could not 
remember the answers he gave upon the suggestion that 
his friend B. was with him. He did not know anything 
of the quarrel we had about the date, nor did he remember 
anything of the interesting facts he gave about the events 
of his life, such as the data of his acquaintance with Miss 
C. He could only remember, and with extraordinary clear- 
ness and distinctness, all the experiences that constituted 
the vision itself. The names in the vision, such as Mt. 
Jewett, St. George, etc., were to him unintelligible. When 
asked, if he knew what beer was, he replied he did not, 
but the brown liquid he saw in his dream had been called 
"beer." When asked who Uncle Will was, "I do not 
know, I have an Uncle William, but not one named Will." 
He had evidently not learned since the accident that Will 
was an abbreviation of William. 

We learned from reliable sources that the scenes, events 
and experiences of the "vivid dream" were really life 
experiences which had occurred years previous to the 
accident. 

By these various methods of sounding Mr. Hanna's 
memories, we were enabled to establish fully the correct- 
ness of our original view, that the lost memories were still 
present and buried within the subconscious self. 



CHAPTER XI 

AWAKENING OF PRIMARY PERSONALITY AND DOUBLE 
CONSCIOUSNESS 

The psychological examination, the study of the hyp- 
noidal and hypnoidic states, the marked intelligence of Mr. 
Hanna, clearly demonstrated to us that the forgotten mem- 
ories were not lost, that the primary personality was buried 
deep down within the regions of his subconscious, and that 
he was in what may be termed a secondary state. 

Our line of work, therefore, lay clearly defined before 
us. The subconscious primary personality must be stimu- 
lated, brought to the surface as often as possible and finally 
the two personalities must be merged into one. 

As Mr. Hanna could not be put into the hypnotic state, 
it was necessary to find a course of procedure by means of 
which the buried personality could be brought to the sur- 
face. 

For the purpose of closer observation and experimenta- 
tion, Mr. Hanna was brought to New York, where facilities 
were afforded for carrying on the work. 

Mr. Hanna was constantly under our immediate ob- 
servation and was closely watched day and night. The 
method now to be employed was that of stimulation. The 
lost memories being present in a subconscious state, the ob- 
ject was to stimulate that subconscious state and force it to 
the surface of upper consciousness. This could be accom- 
plished by suddenly bringing the young man into an en- 
tirely new and different environment which should afford 
to him a mass of new and intense stimuli. At home Mr. 

160 



AWAKENING OF PRIMARY PERSONALITY 161 

Hanna was confined to a more or less monotonous and nar- 
row sphere; living in a village, the scenes were daily the 
same; his existence lay in the same beaten track; his life 
was unvaried and uneventful. The faces he saw, the scenes 
and conditions about him, tended to perpetuate the same 
mental state. His mind was slumbering in the quiet 
puritanical environment in which he was leading a more 
or less vegetative existence. 

The lost memories existing in the subconscious were in 
an inert state and could not possibly come to life under the 
conditions in which he lived. It was necessary, therefore,' 
to confront him with experiences which, although new to 
this secondary state, were nevertheless within the range of 
his former life experience, but such as to strongly interest 
him, impress, dazzle and bewilder him. A flood of experi- 
ences which the secondary state could not assimilate had to 
be suddenly forced into his mind. The secondary self 
would not absorb it; the experiences would be too sudden, 
too strange and vast. The secondary state would fall into 
the background, and make possible the emergence of the 
old primary personality. 

On the evening of his arrival, in the company of his 

brother, we took Mr. Hanna to a brilliantly lighted popular 

restaurant. The place was fairly alive with people, and 

during the dinner the general conversation was made lively 

and stimulating. Stories and anecdotes were told, followed 

by general laughter, which all but Mr. Hanna appreciated. 

Merry scenes and gay music added to the brilliancy. All 

this fairly bewildered the young clergyman. The stories, 

as a rule, failed to be understood by him, and he was sorely 

puzzled at the outbursts of laughter that followed. His 

secondary personality, never having had such experience, 

could not comprehend the meaning and significance of the 

various remarks and anecdotes. The fact that his own 

brother saw fun and humor in the stories puzzled him still 

more. 

12 



162 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Mr. Hanna heard the strains of a mandolin in an ad- 
joining room. He thought the music "pretty," but could 
not imagine the form and nature of the instrument which 
could produce such "peculiar, though pretty sounds." He 
had not tasted coffee since the accident ; it was entirely a 
new beverage to him. The coffee helped to stimulate him 
both psychically and physiologically. His curiosity and in- 
terest were aroused and became very active. His attention 
was acute, fairly tingling with alertness to new incoming 
impressions. The phonograph, among other things, greatly 
interested him. He was kept for three hours under the 
pressure of a mass of various psychic stimuli. 

The subconscious was thus stimulated into activity and 
finally came fully to light. It required some hours before 
the psychic stimuli became summated and brought to light 
the primary personality. 

Amnesia is a dissociation of consciousness. The mental 
state of Mr. Hanna being of that nature, and, further- 
more, of the type which may be characterized as complete 
amnesia, the dissociation was necessarily of a complete 
character. That is, the plane of cleavage between the con- 
sciousness up to the time of the accident and that since the 
accident was of such a nature as to sever all association 
between the two. The dissociation that had occurred within 
his mind was such that the old memories were in a sub- 
conscious state, while those recently acquired belonged to 
his present self-consciousness. It is therefore clear that if 
these subconscious memories in the form of the primary 
personality would be stimulated to come to the upper con- 
sciousness, the newly acquired memories, the secondary 
personality, would sink in their turn into subconscious life. 

Now in the type of amnesia to which this case be- 
longs two individual systems of psychic states carry on 
their functions in an isolated and independent manner ; one 
is the primary and the other the secondary. The rise of 
one system will be accompanied by the fall of the other, and 



AWAKENING OF PRIMARY PERSONALITY 163 

the result will be an alternation of personality. Such was 
the course of the case. 

Mr. Hanna's first night in New York was spent at the 
house of Dr. G. The room-companion of the patient was 
his brother, Mr. J. H. The brother was instructed to call 
us, should anything of interest occur during the night. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE RISE OF PRIMARY PERSONALITY 

As the phenomena now manifested by Mr. Hanna are 
of the utmost importance, we give as detailed an account 
of them as possible. We quote verbatim from our own 
notes and from the account given by Mr. Hanna 's brother, 
who accompanied him and took care of him. 

(Account by Mr. J. H.) June 8, 1897. "We went to 
bed at eleven o 'clock, and remained awake talking for about 
forty-five minutes or an hour, and then I fell asleep, and 
was awakened some time after by hearing my brother leave 
the bed. He lit the gas and began reading a book. I asked 
him, if he could not sleep, and he said he didn't and could 
not, and then I fell asleep. (This was doubtless due to 
the excitement to the summation of psychic stimuli of the 
evening. ) 

About 3.15 a.m. I felt him shake me. I asked him 
what was the matter, and he asked me where he was. I told 
him we were in New York. He said, "What are we doing 
here ? ' ' and I asked him how he felt ; if he had slept well. 
He said he had been dreaming. I asked him what was the 
last he remembered. At first he wouldn't answer. He 
wanted to know why he was in New York. I told him that 
this will be made clear to him if he should have a little 
patience and answer my questions first. I asked him to tell 
me what he remembered last. He said the last he remem- 
bered was Thursday evening. He drove over to Meriden 
for me. I asked him about the drive, what he saw or what 
the drive was like, and if he could describe it. He said 
"Yes"; he drove over for me, and on the way there he 
passed a balky horse. Later on, he met a friend named Mr. 
164 



RISE OF PRIMARY PERSONALITY 165 

J., pushing his wheel up the mountain, and when he ar- 
rived in Meriden, he said, I had walked out a mile to meet 
him; that I got in the carriage and we drove to my room. 
I asked him where I had my room, and he said on Crown 
Street, opposite my old room. Then I asked him what he 
remembered on the way back, and he began to tell me about 
the accident of April 15. Then I interrupted him to ask 
him for something previous to the accident. 

I asked him, if he remembered that I read anything to 
him. He said ' ' Yes, ' ' he did. He remembered an ode that 
my brother wrote on my sister and my brother. He thought 
it was very fine ; it was funny. 

Then I asked him about the accident and he gave the 
following account : I was driving and something was 
wrong with the headstall, which was over the horse's ear 
and seemed to trouble her. He said I turned the carriage 
so he could get out, and he started to get out and fell. He 
had a pain in one leg and his other foot caught in the lap 
robe, so when he fell he could not put out his leg to catch 
himself, and that was as far as he remembered. 

I then asked him if he remembered his past life at the 
University of Pennsylvania and at Bucknell University. 
Here my brother's patience was exhausted, and instead of 
answering, insisted on knowing why he was in New York 
and how he had got there. I told him that when he fell, he 
struck his head and lost consciousness; that I had carried 
him to Southington, and since that time he had no memory 
of his past life. He thought it was a joke, and said I must 
be joking. He asked me if I carried him down here to New 
York, and then he shook me by the shoulder and said it was 
a huge joke. I told him we had come to New York for the 
sake of seeing the doctors here and that we were in the 
same house with Dr. G. I asked him where he had placed 
the matches, and he said, ' ' The matches ? I did not put any 
matches anywhere." He had placed some matches on the 
mantel before he went to bed. 



166 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

When Dr. G. came into the room, Mr. Hanna looked at 
him inquiringly, as if seeing one who was a perfect stran- 
ger. We endeavored to aid his memory by some associa- 
tions or impressions which were frequently present in his 
experiences since the accident. Mr. Hanna was asked if he 
could not recall Dr. S. and Dr. G., whose attendance upon 
him since the accident had made him quite intimate with 
them. When told that their acquaintance dated some weeks 
back, he was puzzled and seemed to doubt it strongly. 
When further asked concerning the events of the previous 
evening, his memory was found to be a perfect blank. He 
knew nothing of the incidents nor of the individuals; nor 
did he show even the slightest trace of recognition or famil- 
iarity. It was not possible in any manner to awaken recol- 
lection of anything which had occurred since the accident. 
He could not reconcile himself to the facts told him. To 
him Dr. S. and Dr. G. were fictitious persons, and the whole 
account was to him nothing but a well-concocted story. The 
only one for whom he had recognition was his brother. He 
said he knew his brother and could only explain the pecul- 
iar situation by his conviction that his brother had played 
a huge joke on him and had made arrangements with us to 
carry out the fun. He then asked what time it was and 
looked out of the window and saw it was daylight. We re- 
plied that it was four o'clock. He said it must be later, as 
it was so light. The accident occurred on the 15th of April. 
When he awoke, he thought that the accident had occurred 
the previous evening. As the dawn occurs later in April 
than in June (the present time), he thought it must surely 
be later than four o'clock, and considered his brother mis- 
taken as to the hour. 

Mr. Hanna was assured that he had been sick for the 
past six weeks and had lost his memory by a fall. At first 
he absolutely refused to believe it, and only after the most 
positive and repeated assurance, finally said: "Well, I 
suppose I must believe you, boys." He was unable to re- 



RISE OF PRIMARY PERSONALITY 167 

call a single incident that had occurred since the accident. 
He could not even recollect the last thing done before going 
to bed the night before. 

Mr. Hanna soon began to regard with curiosity and in- 
terest the various objects about the room, which he appeared 
to see for the first time. He looked at pictures on the wall 
and made comments upon them. He admired some of them, 
and of one he said, ' ' That is a fine picture. ' ' His brother 
then showed him one he had seen just before retiring. He 
had no recollection of it. Another picture, portraying a 
horse, and which had especially interested him the evening 
before, did not now interest him in the least. When his 
attention was now called to it, he did not recognize it. He 
made some comments on other articles in the room ; spoke of 
the folding bed, said, ' ' This is liable to close upon a fellow. ' ' 
He was asked, if he had ever slept in one before. He said 
often. In short, the room and environment were entirely 
new to him. 

Some incidents were then related to Mr. Hanna that he 
had described in his picture dreams, or what we character- 
ized as hypnoidic states. Characters which had appeared to 
him in those states were spoken of, and he knew them at 
once. He gave an account of his relations with these in- 
dividuals and verified as actual all the events he had gone 
through in his picture dreams of the secondary state. When 
asked, for instance, who Schuyler was, he answered, "An 
old school-mate of mine." He also mentioned his relations 
to the Bustler of the hypnoidic states. When asked about 
Cemetery, Mt. Jewett, New Boston Junction, he gave us a 
detailed description of them; of his experiences on Mt. 
Jewett, during a violent storm, he gave a detailed account. 
He met there a woman and child in distress; rescued 
them; accompanied them home, and so on. In short, he 
recounted as a part of his actual life experience all that 
we had witnessed him live over again in his hypnoidic 
state. 



1G8 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Mr. Hanna was astonished at our intimate familiarity; 
with these events of his life which he had kept as a secret. 
"I never communicated that to anybody," he said, "how 
do you know about it? I would not have my mother or 
father know that for the world, because they would worry 
were they to know of some of my thrilling experiences in 
mountain life." Assured that he himself had told it, he 
positively refused to believe it. 

Mr. Hanna was greatly bewildered at his new experi- 
ence. He would frequently turn around and say, "Now, 
boys, this is a huge joke; tell me where I am." 

Last night, when at dinner, we happened to speak of 
Sweden, of its literature, and so on. This seemed to have 
made a very strong impression on the young man, and when 
we were in the car, he turned to us and said, ' ' The woman in 
the dream about Mt. Jewett was Swedish. I did not know 
that Swedish was a nation, but I am sure that in the dream 
about Mt. Jewett the woman was Swedish. I did not know 
what Swedish meant. ' ' When asked how he knew she was 
Swedish, he answered, ' ' I know it. ' ' He could not give the 
reason. Now, in his present primary state, when he was 
asked about the woman on Mt. Jewett, he confirmed the 
statement of the evening previous, that she was Swedish. 
' ' They were all Swedish living about there. ' ' He could not, 
however, recall that he had spoken of Sweden during the 
previous evening, and that he had said the woman was 
Swedish. 

Mr. Hanna was then asked as to his companion at col- 
lege. He mentioned names and incidents, spoke of board- 
ing and gave, among other things, the names of eight com- 
panions who usually dined with him and also the order in 
which they were seated at the table. His brother verified 
the truth of his statements. 

In the midst of our conversation, Mr. H. suddenly ex- 
claimed, "What a funny taste in my mouth! You have 
been feeding me on tobacco. ' ' (He was not conscious of hav- 



RISE OF PRIMARY PERSONALITY 169 

ing smoked a cigarette the evening before. He had given 
up the use of tobacco some years ago.) 

At the question, ■ ' How is Miss C. ? " he became indignant. 
"That is my business, and furthermore, see here, honestly, 
I take a decent joke, but I want to know what you are 
about. I don't want to have the name of Miss C. bantered 
about. ' ' 

When he was asked how he felt, he said, "I feel just like 
Rip Van "Winkle. I feel hazy. ' ' 

Tests of his handwriting gave interesting results. In 
the secondary state he wrote poorly; he could only make 
printed characters; his written letters were extremely im- 
perfect ; many of the capitals he could not write at all. He 
was now asked to write his father's address. The hand- 
writing was identical with that of his state previous to the 
accident. The address he gave was that of the former resi- 
dence of the family before the accident. His family up to 
the time of the accident lived in Pennsylvania, and he, hav- 
ing no memory in his primary state for what occurred since 
the accident, thought that the family still lived in Pennsyl- 
vania. He did not know they had moved to Plantsville 
since his illness. 

Mr. Hanna then turned to his brother and asked with 
great interest, "Who has been preaching at the church?" 
The brother replied that the father was occupying the 
pulpit and that the family had moved to Plantsville. He 
exclaimed in great surprise, ' ' Why, you don 't say so ; when 
was this?" 

A number of events occurring during the last six weeks 
were recalled to him, but his mind was for them an absolute 
blank. 

When he was asked to rise, he said, ' ' he felt sore and ex- 
hausted. ' ' His back was stiff. He arose with difficulty and 
was assisted down-stairs and back. He said he felt as if 
"he was recovering from the fall of last Thursday." 

When requested to relate the dream he had just before 



170 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

awakening, he said, "I dreamed I was with Em. on the 
street-car." Asked where that was, he said, "In a city." 
Asked what city, answered "Philadelphia." He remem- 
bered no further details of the dream. 

The dream, therefore, related to the experiences of his 
primary state. He must have passed into that state, when 
asleep. 

Mr. Hanna soon expressed himself as "feeling very 
sleepy," and begged permission to lie down and sleep. He 
seemed unable to remain awake. This primary state lasted 
about three-quarters of an hour. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE REAPPEARANCE OP THE SECONDARY PERSONALITY 

Mr. Hanna fell asleep about 4 a.m., June 9 ; he was vis- 
ited at hourly intervals, and found sleeping very soundly. 
At 9 a.m., in response to a request to arise, he said, "I must 
get up," but turned over and fell asleep again. He was 
left undisturbed and arose at 9.30. He seemed familiar 
with his surroundings. Dr. G., thinking Mr. Hanna con- 
tinued in his primary state, said to him : 

"You may think I am rather familiar, but you see I 
have known you longer than you really think. I have 
known you for some weeks now, though you may not 
know it." 

Mr. Hanna replied, "Yes, I know that." 

He was then asked to relate the order in which the gentle- 
men he spoke of a few hours ago were seated around the 
dining-table ; the interrogation referred, of course, to the 
dinner-table around which his fellow-students had sat in 
college days. He replied, "Let me see, there was Dr. S., 
Dr. D.," and so on, mentioning the order and names of the 
gentlemen at supper the evening before, but he had no 
idea of having mentioned the students. He was again in 
his secondary state. He was then asked if he had ever slept 
in such a folding bed before. In his primary state of the 
early morning he had been asked the same question and 
had replied in the affirmative, making such comment as to 
show full familiarity with it. To the same question put to 
him in his present secondary state, Mr. Hanna replied 
negatively; he said, "Never knew of one." 

In his primary state, when he was informed of the loss 

171 



172 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

of memory and of events which had occurred during the 
secondary state, and of which he was ignorant, and when 
asked how he felt, he characterized himself as Rip Van 
Winkle. Now, in the secondary state, when asked what the 
words Rip Van Winkle might possibly mean, he replied he 
had never heard such a word and didn't know its meaning. 
In order to mislead him, he was asked whether it was a 
street or a hotel. He said it might possibly be the name of 
a hotel, as hotels like to have "high-sounding names." 
"Yes, it might be a hotel," he repeated. 

It was evident that, having lapsed into his secondary 
state, he was continuing the life and carrying on the mem- 
ories of that state. He was again in full possession of every- 
thing that had occurred since the accident, exclusive of the 
events of the early morning in the primary state, but had 
lost all memories of events up to the time of the accident 
and also of the interval during which he was in the pri- 
mary state. After having passed again into his secondary 
state and having been informed by his brother how totally 
changed he was, how his friends and events of the one 
state were lost to his mind in the other, he felt greatly de- 
pressed and was almost in despair. He was fully conscious 
of his misfortune and complained bitterly, fearing that he 
might at any time and in any condition lapse from one 
state into the other, with absolute loss of knowledge of 
his surroundings and of his friends of the other state. He 
realized that in his present state of psychic alternation he 
could hardly be trusted to go about independently. 

When he was assured that a speedy cure would be ef- 
fected, he was rather sceptical. The account given to him 
of the absolute change from one psychic state to another im- 
pressed him deeply. When told that the two states were 
fixed and that finally in the one he would have an indirect 
knowledge, by information from others, of what happened 
in the other state, he turned to us with the rather pertinent 
inquiry, "And how do you know that there will not come 



SECONDARY PERSONALITY 173 

a third state in which I will not remember either of the 
two?" Mr. Hanna seemed depressed and absorbed within 
himself, but this soon passed off. In his secondary state 
his emotions changed rapidly; were readily influenced by 
passing events; they were unstable, less persistentrthan in 
his other states. His sensitiveness in the secondary state 
was very acute and he was extremely susceptible to exterX 
nal stimuli. This fact becomes especially prominent by a] 
comparison of the secondary with the primary and normal 
states. 1 (See plates I, II.) 

.3 

1 The delicate sensitiveness and extreme organic susceptibility in his 
secondary state to external stimuli manifested itself also in a form which 
to his family appeared as clairvoyance. Thus he was able to find objects 
hidden from him, and was uniformly correct in guessing in which hand a 
small coin was held, both hands being concealed from view. His knowl- 
edge seemed to be a kind of intuition, or, as he said, " instinct," which he 
could not explain or understand. This condition was absent both in the 
primary and complete states. This fact greatly awed Mr. Hanna's family, 
who attempted to conceal it even from us. In like manner the straps 
with which he was bound after the accident he invariably located, in spite 
of the fact that his family made every effort to conceal them, since their 
presence agitated him. 

We must add, however, that these facts were not under our direct 
observation. We simply record them, to indicate the sensitiveness of the 
secondary personality, but cannot vouch for the exactness of the obser- 
vation, as it has not been accurately investigated. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE AEOUSAL OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS 

The next few days were spent in psy v ~ n gical experi- 
ments. With the pneumograph, sphygmograph, reaction 
recorder and other instruments, we studied the mental con- 
dition and the various reactions, sensory and motor, of 
Mr. Hanna in his several psychic states. 

During the following day Mr. Hanna remained in the 
secondary state. We wished to vary and intensify the stim- 
ulative agents, to reach if possible into the more susceptible 
recesses of his underground life and bring repeatedly to the 
surface memories buried within the subconscious. 

We must here emphasize the fact tnat the experiences 
used as psychic stimuli, in order to bring out repeatedly 
the primary state, were all of them of such a nature as to 
be similar to those of his former life experience, present in 
the subconsciousness. We avoided bringing him in contact 
with altogether new and sudden experiences which would 
act as a shock to him. Some of the experiences were similar 
to those already lived through by Mr. Hanna before the 
accident. 

Our efforts were in a general way directed along two 
more or less distinct lines. One, which we may appropri- 
ately term the method of recognition, consisted in the stim- 
ulation in each individual experience of a sense of recogni- 
tion and of localization in some at least indefinite past. This 
method has rather an indirect value. Although Mr. Hanna 
had never direct recognition of objects, the sense of recog- 
nition was nevertheless stimulated, and finally the summa- 
tion of the stimuli helped to bring out the primary state, of 
which it formed an essential element. 

174 



PRIMARY STATE 



PLATE II 




Pneumographs tracings of Mr. Hannn in his primary state. The first tracing is under normal conditions — no stimuli are applied. The tracings give 

regular respiratory curves. The rest of the tracings are first normal for a brief period and then under the influence of various stimuli. In this state the 

pneumographs curves show but little change, the reactions to stimulations are very slight, showing a great relative diminution of sensitivity of the 
primary personality. 



AROUSAL OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS 175 

The second method, which may be termed that of 
psychic infusion, consisted in rapidly confronting him 
with new impressions, infusing, so to say, into his mind a 
mass of experiences which, although strange to his second- 
ary state, were perfectly familiar to and even exact repro- 
ductions of events lived through in his primary state. The 
two methods were often conjointly applied. The second 
method was mainly used during the first evening preceding 
the full manifestation of the subconscious primary state. 

As an illustration of the first method, or that of recogni- 
tion, we may describe our visit with Mr. Hanna to the 
Zoological Garden. Mr. Hanna before the accident had fre- 
quently visited the place and had been quite familiar with 
it. During our visit he displayed his usual intense interest 
and surprise. Everything seemed entirely new to him. To 
our question whether he had seen any of the animals, he in- 
variably replied he had not. The only recognition he 
showed was indicated by the remark that he had seen a few 
weeks previously the picture of an elephant and rhinoceros 
in a picture-book. We passed a stall enclosing a donkey. 
Mr. Hanna at once exclaimed, "There is a horse exactly 
like that I saw in my dream." Some of the more common 
horned animals he called cows, although evidently appreci- 
ating the differences. The deer was one of these. Some of 
the plumed birds he thought were a kind of chicks. 

"We invariably observed that even the most common- 
place things which he had not seen since the accident inter- 
ested him greatly. He gazed at them with a curiosity as if 
he had never known them. He was like a child in his inter- 
est and amusement at seeing new objects, but showed his 
keen intelligence in inquiring and accepting critically 
statements about them. He was, indeed, like one coming 
from another planet where all things were different. 

Mr. Hanna at this time fully appreciated his loss of 
memory, and often himself expressed astonishment that it 
could have been so complete. He would often turn to us 



176 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

with the remark, " It is truly wonderful that I should have 
known (or lived through) such things before. I often try 
so hard to recall, but it is so impossible that I have about 
given it up." 

As Mr. Hanna had not for several days passed into the 
primary state, and as we were anxious to induce alterna- 
tion of the states as frequently as possible, we now, both for 
theoretic and practical purposes, employed the method 
of physiological stimulation. This method consists in the 
administration of some drug, which, without acting as a 
poison, stimulates the higher cerebral centres. The drug 
selected for this purpose was cannabis indica. The ex- 
tract was employed and about two grains in one-fourth 
grain doses administered within four hours. The drug in- 
fluenced strongly his circulatory system; the pulse became 
rapid; the rapidity increased decidedly when he moved 
about. There were no special sensory or motor phenomena 
manifested. His mind, however, remained clear, his intel- 
lect unaffected by the drug. His emotional state became 
gradually one of euphoria, and his actions soon indicated a 
sense of inner joyousness and mental buoyancy. He was 
mirthful; he seized pillows from the bed and threw them 
at his brother and otherwise showed an unusual playful- 
ness. This condition gradually subsided and was succeeded 
by a state of calm, from which, after about half an hour, he 
passed into a natural sleep. 

Mr. Hanna was watched closely during the entire night. 
No phenomena of interest occurred. He was not in a hyp- 
noidic state ; when spoken to lightly, he did not reply, and 
reacted naturally to awakening stimuli. He continued in 
this secondary state during the night. At eight in the 
morning he awoke, looked about in astonishment, with no 
recognition of his new surroundings. (During the sec- 
ondary state, we had intentionally changed his environment 
in order to keep him under the influence of varying stim- 
uli.) Mr. Hanna did not recognize Dr. S., and looked at 



AROUSAL OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS 177 

him in astonishment, although during the night, when he 
was in the secondary state, he had answered the questions 
of the doctor and fully recognized him. Dr. S. said to Mr. 
Hanna, "Do you know me?" Mr. Hanna replied, "No, I 
am sure I never saw you before." Then Dr. V. G., whom 
Mr. Hanna knew and with whom he had had many conver- 
sations, came in; he likewise declared to have never seen 
him before. He knew nothing at this time of the psycho- 
logical laboratory to which he had frequently been in his 
secondary state. In short, he knew nothing of events and 
persons since the first primary state. He remembered, how- 
ever, everything that had happened up to the time of the 
accident and the events of the first primary state, and also 
what, in that first primary state, was told to him about the 
secondary state. Of the past few days, during which he 
had been in the secondary state, he had absolutely no rec- 
ollection. The last thing he remembered was the room at 
Dr. G.'s house, and the conversation of the early morning 
(Tuesday), at which time he was in his primary state. 
Although it was now Saturday morning, when asked as to 
the day, Mr. Hanna said it was Wednesday. In his present 
state of mind, the consciousness of last events, time, place 
and circumstances of the primary state, was awakened and 
continued from the point left off. He at once noted the 
absence of Dr. G., whom he had met in the early morning 
of the 9th, when he was in the primary state. 

When asked how he rested during the night, he said he 
had slept well. When asked to arise and dress, he said he 
felt weak and wanted to remain in bed. His limbs were 
somewhat stiff, and he found some difficulty in moving 
them. "I feel," he said, "a cramp in my knee," pointing 
to the left limb, which was flexed. Examination of the 
extremity did not reveal any sensory or motor disturbances. 
He repeatedly remarked that he felt extremely weak, as if 
after some severe exhaustion. 

In conversation with Mr. Hanna, he was asked many de- 
13 



178 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tails of his life up to the time of the accident. He gave exact 
accounts of them, showing a complete knowledge of his for- 
mer life. He spoke of his university life, of his ordination 
as minister, of his experiences as a preacher, of his rescue 
of a woman in McKane County, Pennsylvania, during a 
severe storm in the mountains ; he gave a description of his 
former friend Bustler ; said that Bustler lived in Pottsville. 
In short, he gave a more or less complete biographical 
sketch of himself up to the time of the accident. 

Mr. Hanna, in his secondary state, had been reading 
"Lorna Doone." In his present primary state, he was 

torn Tom Thomas 

Fig. 20. — Specimen of Mr. Hanna' s writing in the secondary state. 

shown the novel and asked how much he had thus far read. 
He replied, "Why, I never read that book." 

He was then asked about Miss C, who had faithfully 
nursed him for some weeks after the accident. Mr. Hanna 
now replied, ' ' I have not seen her for nine weeks. ' ' When 
asked at this time concerning Miss C, he did not become 
angry, as he did the first time. He now knew we were 
familiar with the events of his life. 

Mr. Hanna was then asked to write some sentences in 
English, Greek, German, Latin, Hebrew. (See reproduc- 
tion of writing in each state, Figs. 21a, 21&.) 

The sphygmograph was now produced in order to take 
pulse tracings. Although many tracings had been taken 



AROUSAL OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS 179 



in the secondary state 
and he in that state had 
handled the sphygmo- 
graph and had carefully 
examined it and shown 
great interest in its con- 
struction, when he was 
shown the instrument it 
was " entirely new to 
him. ' ' He had always in 
his secondary state assist- 
ed us in preparing the 
tracings and had become 
quite adept in the work. 
In the primary state, 
however, he had not the 
remotest idea how a trac- 
ing should be made. 

He soon manifested a 
strong desire to sleep. 
He was restrained and 
was told that, as he him- 
self had said, he had slept 
a long time, " since 
Wednesday," as he told 
us. "I felt so sleepy," 
he complained. " There 
must have been some- 
thing wrong with me; 
perhaps I had delirium 
and fever." He was 
urged to overcome his in- 
clination to sleep. Strong 
coffee and a good break- 
fast were given him to aid 
in prolonging the pri- 



W 







180 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

mary state. He was asked to dress and go out with Dr. S. 
for a walk, the intention being to prolong his present state. 
He showed great physical weakness and pain in his 
muscles. He began to dress himself slowly, but could not 
find his shoes; he was looking about for them in vain. (He 
had removed them while in his secondary state, and now in 

1F&.VTu)i/ iK$Tfiu>\s &vdp<*trc\ 



TjSr? x^ Wk ^n h^ 

* 

Fig. 21i. — Specimen of Mr. Hanna's writing in the primary state. 

his primary state could not discover their whereabouts.) 
This caused him much chagrin, as he was naturally method- 
ical and not absent-minded. The total loss of all memory 
as to what he had done with his clothing made him fairly 
desperate. 



TE 



i 
I 



g is 

a sj 
' or p 
ated t 
1 stim 



SECOXriATiY STATE 



PLATE I 



Ah #lbwncA ./—*•* ff*7 



NJ M \) X) \) N 



W 1 



wwwwmw 



^r\r\N\^m\^^^l\r\N\^ww 



WxTxNVWxf 









WW 



J^Ck^inn & -tynw 



oCwaW-Titf &1&A- &GrunKs -^ cnT ^s 



M N M MM M 






J M \) M m \J \) V m V V V 






r\vi — \r\r\r\ 



RmU£v£.en*. 









: N ^wXvX^w^^^ 






^^^^^V^l^^^^^W^^^^^ 



i^lNYW^^ 






\f\i\r\i 



y/v<yirtvuL>c 



v^S^Tn-o^ 



v\J^V \J V 



nr\r\rw\i\ 






Pneumograph^ tracings taken of Mr. Ilanna in secondary state. The iirst tracing is taken under normal coniliti 

and the apparatus gives regular respiratory curves. In the rest of the tracings, after a short respiratory interval of 

us character are applied, such as songs and hymns familiar to either the secondary or primary state, recitations of 

rasping sounds and so on. The reaction is quick, the respiration is greatly accelerated and the total change 

strongly marked, showing the great sensitivity of the secondary personality to external stimulations 



is, that is, no stimuli are applied 

espirution, stimulations of 

various sensory stimuli, such 

of the respin 



AROUSAL OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS 181 

He did not desire to take a walk, and as Dr. S. did not 
wish to leave him alone and let him lapse into the secondary 
state, we continued the conversation. ( In a discussion of the 
history of Indo-European languages.) Mr. Hanna showed 
great mental acuteness and familiarity with literature and 
history. He also showed remarkable keenness in discussing 
the question of ethics, or the nature of right and wrong, of 
good and evil. He expressed himself clearly, logically and 
forcibly. When the conversation turned on belles-lettres, on 
realism and idealism, Mr. Hanna displayed a wide range of 
reading. On the whole, he manifested a remarkable intelli- 
gence and versatility of mind trained by a university edu- 
cation. We see now that the primary state was a full re- 
production, morally, intellectually and even physically, of 
Mr. Hanna as he was at the time of the accident. 

He was now overcome by an uncontrollable desire to 
sleep. His eyes began to close. He was urged to keep them 
open, but each time they seemed to drop in spite of his 
every effort. Dr. S. then endeavored to stimulate and arouse 
him. His limbs were moved violently, cold water was 
dashed in his face; he was pinched and otherwise mechan- 
ically stimulated. The onset of the somnolent state was 
irresistible. The lids closed ; he could not control them. He 
fell into a state of unconsciousness. Every effort to keep 
him awake was futile. Even the mechanical opening of the 
lids did not bring response; he remained immovable. This 
state, which may be characterized as hypnoleptic, is of the 
highest importance both for theoretical and practical pur- 
poses. The nature of this state is discussed in another chap- 
ter. In this hypnoleptic state, Mr. Hanna was physically 
prostrated. He was like one dazed by a hard blow lapsing 
into unconsciousness. His muscular system was passive 
without the slightest rigidity. The conjunctival reflex was 
absent. There was absolute anaesthesia to touch and pain. 
He did not respond to the strongest, to the most intense and 
varied stimuli ; nor did he react to loud shouts into his ears. 



182 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

He was evidently in a state of diffused, disaggregated con- 
sciousness. 1 

This hypnoleptic state continued for about a minute. 
The onset of this state, at first gradual, became rapidly 
more intense, and by a kind of accumulative force from mo- 
ment to moment finally plunged him into complete physical 
prostration and mental isolation from the external world. 

The hypnoleptic state may be considered as an attack of 
sudden onset. It may be divided into two periods. The 
first is that of a rapidly increasing condition of extreme 
fatigue and of an overwhelming feeling of drowsiness, cul- 
minating in a second period, that of unconsciousness. A 
discussion of the two stages and their significance will 
appear farther on. 

After a lapse of about one minute, Mr. Hanna suddenly 
regained consciousness, opened his eyes and was found to 
be in his secondary state. 

He looked in surprise about him, wondered that he sat 
in a chair completely attired, and that his brother and Dr. 
S. were attending him. His last recollection was that of be- 
ing in bed. He remembered distinctly, as he said, that he 
had retired, but he did not know how he happened to be 
fully dressed sitting comfortably in the chair. He felt ex- 
ceedingly weak, and lay down upon the lounge. A condi- 
tion of physical exhaustion, bordering on collapse, now 
superseded. He was cold, his skin was dry and pinched, the 
pulse was small, but not rapid. He complained of extreme 
cold. He found difficulty in moving his extremities. There 
was neither paralysis nor rigidity, nor was there catalepsy 
or negativismus. The arm passively raised dropped again 
inertly. Although fully conscious, as was evident from his 
appearance and from what he said afterward, he did not 
reply to questions put to him. When he was raised, he 
could not stand alone, but fell to the floor. In this condi- 
tion, when touched, he seemed to be hyperaesthetie. 
1 See Sidis, Psychology of Suggestion, chap. xx. 



CHAPTER XV 



DUAL LIFE 



In order to introduce again new psychic stimuli, Mr. 
Hanna was taken to see a popular variety performance. 
During his university life he had undoubtedly been famil- 
iar with the theatre ; since entering, however, into religious 
work, this mode of entertainment had been severely 
frowned upon. We hence chose this visit as an admirable 
stimulus, because of its decided novelty to his present life, 
but not altogether foreign to his former early life experi- 
ence. We wished likewise to observe how the young clergy- 
man in his present secondary mental state would regard the 
gayety and life which one sees at such a place. We must 
remember that Mr. Hanna had "never" (i.e., in his second- 
ary state) been to theatre. Everything was new to him. The 
bright lights, the many faces, the brilliant costumes, the 
gay scenery, the witty remarks, the daring feats, the danc- 
ing, all greatly interested him. He was amazed, and ab- 
sorbed everything with great avidity. He was frequently 
asked whether he enjoyed the scenes, and he invariably re- 
plied he did. It was amusing as well as instructive to see 
the naturally austere and dignified young minister readily 
learning in this his secondary state of mental metamorpho- 
sis to applaud the "highly" artistic, though somewhat 
ethically questionable, feats of the heel and toe. 

Mr. Hanna drank two glasses of beer. When asked if 
he had tasted anything like that before, he replied he had 
not. "Do you like it?" he was asked, to which he said, 
' ' Oh, it tastes all right. " It is of interest to note that the 
taste of beer must have been familiar to his subconscious 

183 



184 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

state, as it is rather improbable that a man tasting beer for 
the first time should find it "all right." The beverage had 
been known to him in his early college days, as it was 
brought out in his ' ' hypnoidic ' ' dream state. In his pres- 
ent mental state, Mr. Hanna did not know that beer was 
any different in its nature than any of the non-alcoholic 
beverages. He drank the beer as a matter of course. 

On his return home with us, Mr. Hanna at once retired. 
As usual, he was watched carefully during the night. 

He awoke only once, at 3 a.m., but was then also in his 
secondary state. He awoke at seven and was found to be 
in the primary state. He was already familiar with his 
apartment, but the last thing he remembered was that he 
was sitting completely dressed in a chair. He could not 
understand how he should at this time be in bed with no 
recollection of how he got there. 

Although Mr. Hanna in his secondary state had seen 
Dr. G. the night before, he now asked for him, saying 
he had not seen him since Wednesday (the last primary 
state). This time likewise on awakening, as in the last 
primary state, he complained of muscular weakness and 
pain in his back. He also complained of a buzzing in his 
ear as if a "brass band" were there. This was probably 
due to the impression made by hearing the brass band at 
the roof garden the night previously, when he was in the 
secondary state. 

We took occasion to test Mr. Hanna 's memory in this 
primary state. The method of serial numerals was em- 
ployed. His memory was, for new impressions, far less re- 
tentive than in the secondary state. 

At breakfast he engaged in a long discussion with Dr. S. 
concerning the various philosophers from Plato to Hegel. 
He ably discussed the significance for modern philosophy 
of the Cartesian principle, "cogito ergo sum." He like- 
wise discussed Kant, and said he had studied Baldwin's 
Psychology. When Professor James's essays, which Dr. S. 



DUAL LIFE 185 

had in his hands, were shown him, Mr. Hanna smiled; 
said he knew of Professor James. He read paragraphs 
given to him with great ease and fully understood their 
meaning. One of the passages read had been given to him 
the day before, when in the secondary state. At that time 
he did not understand most of the words ; the sense of the 
phrases was not comprehended at all, and as usual he said 
"never heard of Professor James." 

As it was Sunday, we determined to take Mr. Hanna to 
church. We went to attend the services of his uncle, a 
well-known preacher in New York. The exactness of Mr. 
Hanna 's memory was manifested when the question of his 
uncle's residence arose. Mr. Hanna 's brother gave a street 
and number which he thought correct. Mr. Hanna at once 
changed the number, and it turned out that it was the 
correct one. 

As we passed from the house to the street, he looked 
about with great curiosity. He did not recognize the scene 
as he had "never" been in this neighborhood when in the 
primary state. A few minutes later, as we were seated in 
the car, Mr. Hanna, in the same manner as previously de- 
scribed, fell into the hypnoleptic state. He remained in 
this state for about one minute. His eyes were firmly 
closed ; he could not be aroused. We pricked him sharply 
with a pin, but he did not respond. Upon awaking, he 
complained at once of a feeling of pain where the pin-point 
had entered the skin, although he did not know the cause 
of the pain. He had passed into the secondary state. He 
remained in the primary state from 7.30 until 10 a.m. He 
was quite surprised to find himself seated with us in a 
Broadway cable-car. "Dear me!" exclaimed he, "I have 
the taste of that beer in my mouth yet." (It will be re- 
membered he had taken the beer when in his secondary 
state. In the primary state in which he had been pre- 
viously, however, he had not complained of the taste, and 
knew nothing about having taken any.) 



186 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Mr. Hanna asked, if we had been in the car all night. 
His last clear recollection was of being in the theatre the 
previous evening, although he had returned home and re- 
tired while still in the secondary state. Mr. Hanna, unac- 
customed to alcoholic drink and also being more impres- 
sionable in the secondary state, had been slightly affected 
by the beer, which dimmed his faculties somewhat for 
events of the late evening. 

Nothing of importance passed during the church service. 
After the services, Mr. Hanna was introduced by his 
brother to his uncle, the pastor. Although in the years be- 
fore the accident he had spent much time at his uncle's 
house and knew him very well, it was now necessary to in- 
troduce the young man, who, of course, in the present 
psychic state, did not know his relative. 

Mr. Hanna remained in his secondary state until the 
next day, June 14. He awoke at eight in the morning, hav- 
ing spent the night in the same apartment as previously. 
It was rather dark in the room. His first question was, 
"Where are we? Have we returned? How many days 
have passed?" When leaving the house in the primary 
psychic state, Sunday morning, it was his intention to go to 
Brooklyn after church and spend the afternoon with his 
relatives there. On the way to church in the car, as we 
have said, he had passed into the secondary state and re- 
mained in it until Monday morning, when he awoke in the 
primary state. His last recollection was of the latest events 
of the previous primary state, namely, leaving the house 
with the intention of going to church and then to Brooklyn. 
This explains his first question upon awaking. 

At the house where Mr. Hanna stayed for several days 
was an attractive and intelligent young woman in whom 
Mr. Hanna, of the secondary state, became much interested. 
He confided much to her, and although he rarely spoke to 
others of his changing psychic condition, he revealed the 
whole story to the young lady who had won his confidence. 



DUAL LIFE 187 

Mr. Hanna, now in the primary state, was told by his 
brother, in order to avoid the embarrassment of not recog- 
nizing those in the house, whom he had learned to know, 
while in the secondary state, to bow indiscriminately to all 
whom he met there. The equally indifferent and formal 
recognition of the young lady so much admired by Mr. 
Hanna of the secondary state, rather surprised and nettled 
her. In his present psychic state, she was just as strange to 
him as the others. 

He was now taken to the psychological laboratory in 
order to take various tracings. The place and people 
there were all strange to him in his present primary state. 
Dr. V. G., to whom he had been introduced and with 
whom he had a long conversation while in the secondary 
state, he now passed by without recognition. He gazed 
with interest at the many "new things" he saw in the 
laboratory. 

During the taking of tracings, we urged Mr. Hanna to 
resist all inclination to sleep, and endeavored by various 
stimuli to assist him. We explained that if he succumbed to 
his feeling of drowsiness, he would pass into the secondary 
state, and he himself was most anxious to have the primary 
state prolonged as long as possible. We tried to engage his 
attention and interest him. About 12.30 a.m. he began 
to manifest an inclination to sleep. We endeavored to 
counteract this tendency by talking loudly and emphat- 
ically to him, urging him to resist with all his power the 
drowsiness coming over him. He made a strenuous effort 
to assist us. Each time the feeling of sleepiness seemed 
fairly to overpower him, but it yielded to the intense 
efforts to keep up the waking state. Now he would drop 
into a sleepy state, and again he would open his eyes 
and give a response as we shouted into his ear or applied 
some strong physical stimuli. He seemed to alternate in 
his moments of sleep and awakening, and his responses 
showed that he was at one moment in the secondary and at 



188 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

another m the primary state. He seemed to oscillate be- 
tween sleep, or rather hypnolepsy, and the waking state, 
and his responses to our questions indicated now the pres- 
ence of the primary, now that of the secondary state, and 
now of the simultaneous presence of both. Each time the 
stimuli aroused him from the state of hypnolepsy and each 
time the latter took possession of him ; again he was aroused 
and again the hypnoleptic state gained the ascendency, un- 
til at last he fell into the deeper, the last stage of hypno- 
lepsy. In this condition he was completely shut out from 
the external world and appeared to be in an unconscious 
state. The first stage of hypnolepsy continued for about 
five minutes, the last stage about three-quarters of a minute. 
He awoke, and as usual was found to be in his secondary 
state. The primary state had continued for about four and 
one-half hours. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE STRUGGLE AND UNION OP ALTERNATING PERSONALITIES 

Mr. Hanna was now taken out for a walk, and on the 
way stopped at Dr. G.'s office, about 4.30 in the afternoon 
of June 14. A discussion arose between Dr. S. and Mr. 
Hanna on various topics relating to religious and minis- 
terial duties. Mr. Hanna was in a pleasant mood; there 
was observed, however, some absent-mindedness, as if 
something was working in the subconscious regions of his 
mind. His mind was lucid; his argument, as usual, was 
clear and forcible. 

At Dr. G.'s office, Mr. Hanna lay down upon a lounge 
to rest. He soon fell into a condition of what appeared to 
be deep abstraction. He complained of a severe headache, 
which, he said, was "all over the head." The state of ab- 
straction deepened ; he turned his head away from us and 
lay immovable upon one side for some time. Although 
he was awake, he would not answer our interrogations and 
strongly resisted our efforts to change the position of his 
limbs. 

In this condition Mr. Hanna remained for twenty min- 
utes. The mouth temperature at this time was found to be 
99.5 F., pulse 96 per minute. 

When his brother addressed him, Mr. Hanna turned to 
him with eyes staring wildly, but did not reply. When an 
interrogation was put to him, he gazed in a dazed way at 
the question, but did not answer. 

Five minutes later, when asked how he felt, he seemed 
to make an effort to comprehend, but still did not reply. 

189 



190 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

The pulse had dropped to 78 ; temperature remained as 
before. 

We desired to ascertain whether Mr. Hanna could un- 
derstand us and possessed voluntary control, at least of his 
eye muscles, because it was not possible to induce move- 
ments of other voluntary muscles. It was difficult to de- 
termine whether his failure to respond to our direction to 
him was due to loss of comprehension or to loss of volun- 
tary control of his muscles. To determine this, a pencil 
was moved in various directions, and he was told to follow 
it with his eyes. At first he failed to respond, but later 
correctly used his eye muscles in looking at the pencil. 
There was no muscular paralysis, but rather want of com- 
prehension. 

A few minutes later he was able to answer "yes" and 
"no" to questions. It was necessary to repeat the ques- 
tions four or five times before he grasped the meaning. AYe 
could not stimulate him to speak, although he apparently 
made every effort to do so. To determine whether Mr. 
Hanna 's mental faculties were intact, and whether he un- 
derstood speech, we told him to answer "Yes" when a 
sentence given contained a proper combination of words, 
and "No" to an incorrect nonsense combination. For 
example, when we would say white is black, five times 
eight are ten, his answer was " No " ; fire burns, five times 
eight make forty, his reply was "Y r es. " His responses 
were uniformly correct, showing that comprehension was 
present. 

During the entire time, Mr. Hanna was apparently in a 
state resembling that of mental stupor. His mind reacted 
sluggishly to the impressions from the external world; he 
was deeply absorbed within himself. Asked as to his head- 
ache, he replied ' ' No, ' ' meaning by it that he no longer suf- 
fered pain. 

We wished now to learn whether he was in his primary 
or secondary state. To ascertain this, we put questions 



ALTERNATING PERSONALITIES 191 

which would show familiarity with both states. His 
responses of "Yes" and "No" showed that he knew di- 
rectly of both primary and secondary states. In order to 
be more certain, we spoke German to him. This language 
he knew only in the primary state, and he showed positive 
signs of comprehension. We asked questions concern- 
ing persons and events which had recently occurred in the 
secondary state and of which he had not been told when in 
the primary state. His correct responses proved to us be- 
yond question that he now possessed knowledge of both 
states. In short, Mr. H. was in what we may term the com- 
plete state. 

Gradually he began to recover his speech, but only 
slowly; he seemed to suffer from bradyphasia. The sen- 
tences in which he answered were short, and the words 
drawn out into their component syllables. Not only was 
he slow in his speech, but also in his movements, and in his 
reaction to external stimuli. His comprehension was dull, 
his mental activity was greatly retarded, his intellect was 
sluggish. This slowness of thought we may appropriately 
characterize by the term oradylogia. 

At first we had to assist him to rise; he moved more or 
less mechanically until he seemed gradually to regain his 
power of voluntary locomotion. 

He remained in this rather dazed state for about two 
hours. During this time he gradually came to himself, but 
his mental activity was greatly retarded, strongly contrast- 
ing with both his primary and secondary states. He was 
able to converse with us freely, but asked us to speak 
slowly and distinctly in order that he might comprehend 
what we said to him. This slowness of intellect had never 
before been manifested, neither in his normal state before 
the accident nor in the primary or secondary states. This 
condition gradually disappeared in the course of several 
weeks. 

When Mr. Hanna was in a condition to enter into con- 



192 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

versation with those about him, he was asked, if he could 
give an account of the peculiar state in which he had been 
in the afternoon. He told us he was fully conscious of all 
that had been said and done. When asked if he had volun- 
tarily resisted our endeavors to flex his limbs and to turn 
him while he was lying upon the lounge, he answered that 
every movement at that time greatly disturbed him and 
acted painfully on his mind. What he meant by this will 
shortly be made clear to the reader. He was then asked 
to give a full account of his psychic state at that time ; what 
his thoughts had been and through what experiences he had 
been mentally passing. 

We were then informed that he was during those mo- 
ments passing through an intense mental struggle; that it 
was a most critical period of his life. Here, also, we find 
the central point of Mr. Hanna's pathological state. 
Around this point of his life centres our interest, because 
it gives us a deep and clear insight into the nature of his 
subconscious state. Our observations that pointed to the 
presence of a slumbering, subconscious state of the lost ex- 
periences; our experiments on his memory, the hypnoidal 
and hypnoidic states that clearly revealed the actual exist- 
ence of these memories and their possible rise to the surface 
of his life ; our methods that had further substantiated our 
views by bringing about a crystallization of the two per- 
sonalities that kept on, by constant stimulation, alternating 
in his upper consciousness ; our methods employed with the 
object of bringing up simultaneously the two individuali- 
ties having them confronted by each other, then forcing 
them into one synthetic living unity, all that was now once 
more substantiated by the crucial test of the expected and 
predicted final results, and by Mr. Hanna's subjective ac- 
count of them. The objective and subjective lines of evi- 
dence as to the nature of the pathological processes coin- 
cided; Mr. Hanna's subjective account corroborated our 
views of the case. 



ALTERNATING PERSONALITIES 193 

Mr. Hanna told us that while lying upon the lounge, he 
had engaged in one of the most intense struggles he had 
ever experienced. The two personalities, that of the primary 
and that of the secondary state, arose simultaneously and 
confronted each other. Each of them was the "I" of Mr. 
Hanna, and still they differed from each other. He could 
not choose one only, because each was of the same nature as 
the other; they could not be joined^ because they were two 
quite different personalities. Still, different as they were, 
they were not independent. Both were the ego of Mr. 
Hanna, and yet each so differed from the other. The 
struggle produced intense perplexity and perturbation. 
He felt that the two lives were his, and that they had to be 
synthetized into one ego. This seemed as impossible as to 
unify two different individualities and make of them one 
person. One could not possibly be abandoned and the other 
taken, because both came up constantly before him as 
though proclaiming, ' ' We are one, though different ! ' ' 

It was a critical period for Mr. Hanna ; he was in a con- 
dition which one in a normal state can hardly realize. 
Two different individualities claimed his personal self. It 
was a struggle for life between two individualities formed 
in a single mind; each one endeavored to gain ascendency 
and to suppress, to crush the other; and still neither 
could be suppressed^ because each was part and parcel 
of the other. There was only one way out of the diffi- 
culty, and that was the unification of the two. There was 
no alternative, the two had to be combined and form one 
ego. Mr. Hanna had reached a critical point, the situation 
was tragic and painful. Already in the psychological lab- 
oratory, before the painful and critical point came up, al- 
ready there the conflict of personalities began. It was there 
for the first time that each of the separate, crystallized in- 
dividualities caught, so to speak, a glimpse of each other; 
it was there, so he afterward told us, that the two lives 
came simultaneously before him, disappeared, rose, met, 
14 



194 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

disappeared again, and finally, as the secondary state came 
uppermost, the primary state for the time being, seemed to 
be suppressed, fell into the subconscious regions ; but it did 
not remain there long ; it came to the surface, and with re- 
newed vigor defended its claim for life. The struggle was 
again resumed and it was just this painful situation that 
expressed itself in his present psycho-physical state. 

These two- formed individualities, seemingly mortal foes, 
confronted each other for a long period of time, and in 
their very struggle recognized their intimate relationship, 
if not their relationship of identity. It seemed as if each 
said to the other, "Thou art my mortal foe, and yet thou 
art the bone of my bones and the flesh of my flesh." For 
each personality to crush, to suppress the other, was now 
out of the question; the difficulty, the problem for them, 
was how to form a unity; how to become synthetized into 
one conscious personality. The task was a difficult one, and 
could be achieved only at a loss of much mental energy. 
Hence the sluggishness of psychomotor activity, the slow- 
ness of movement, of speech, of reactions to external stim- 
uli ; hence the retardation of the whole stream of conscious- 
ness, the slow and difficult comprehension, hence the 
phenomena of bradyphasia and bradylogia. 

Mr. Hanna gave us a personal account of his subjective 
experiences during the attack just described. The account 
was all the more valuable, because of his intelligence and 
excellent intellectual training. 

We here reproduce verbatim his replies to our questions. 

Mr. Hanna was asked to describe the manner in which 
he emerged into his present "complete" state. He replied: 

' ' While I was sitting in the chair and fell into that sleep 
from which you made so many efforts to awaken me, the 
two lives, that of the primary and of the secondary state 
(in each state he knew indirectly of the other by informa- 
tion from us), came up for the first time. What agitated 
me most was the problem, which of the two lives I had been 



ALTERNATING PERSONALITIES 195 

living should be continued, which experiences I should ac- 
cept as my own and make continuous. That was the first 
time I really had memory for the primary and secondary 
states simultaneously. ' ' 

Q. Did the two states appear to you as different, and in 
what way? A. They seemed as any memory of the past, 
just as anyone's past life appears to him. They were, how- 
ever, different. I had to choose between the two, which 
seemed to me a task impossible to perform. For instance, 
it would be impossible for you to take Dr. G. 's life and join 
it to your own, and hence if such a problem were to arise 
you would have to choose between the two and accept only 
one. It would be impossible for you to take both; one 
must go. 

Q. How did the two memories appear to you? A. As 
two different persons. That moment in the laboratory was 
the first time when they appeared together and yet were 
separate. When I saw these two lives, I felt myself con- 
strained to choose. The two lives appeared distinct and 
separate. Reason told me I was one, but there appeared 
two egos, and hence I had to choose between them. 

Q. How did you know the two lives both belonged to 
you if they appeared as two different personalities? A. 
The first thing that made me think so was that I remem- 
bered in my primary state that you told me of a secondary 
state, and in the secondary, of a primary state alongside of 
the secondary ; hence, when two individualities, both known 
as my own, appeared together, I thought they must be 
mine. There was also an unexplainable feeling that both 
were mine. 

Q. Were these differences as distinct as between two 
real persons? A. I can't surely say, but you remember 
and are sure of what happens in your life and cannot say 
why you are. When I was in the primary state, I had 
memory for everything in that state, and when in the sec- 
ondary state, I had memory for everything which occurred 



196 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

in the secondary state. Now, when I was in that sleepy- 
condition in the laboratory, the two states were together, 
each of precisely the same nature as it had been before; 
both states came together and were recognized. Before 
that, while in the one I did not recognize the existence 
of the other. I never realized that, if I should regain 
my memory, it would happen in such a strange way. I 
thought it would be like bringing up old memories as one 
ordinarily does. In reality, it was like bringing to vision 
an entirely new life. In each memory the life seemed 
within the same body physically, the same physical be- 
ing. It seemed to me, on reasoning, as if these were 
two bodies alike, like twins, perhaps, beings that had lived 
entirely different lives, or like twins of the same body, with 
tastes and natures very similar that had afterward become 
one. Mentally the two lives were very different; it ivas as if, 
for instance, you had the memory of your life and Dr. G.'s 
life as your own at once, or, better still, if you had the 
memory of Dr. G.'s experiences in another body similar 
to your own, bodies exactly alike, with similar dis- 
positions, faculties and tastes. You would think it im- 
possible to join the two lives into one; they would seem so 
discontinuous and different. It was a struggle for me to 
decide which to choose. I had to leave one, because it was 
impossible for me to take both, it seemed too great a strain 
to take both. You see how hard it would be to take your 
own and Dr. G. 's life and make both your own ; you would 
have to choose one. 

Q. AA 7 hich life did you prefer to accept ? A. I was will- 
ing to take either. The struggle was not so much to choose 
one as to forget the other. I was trying to find which I 
might most easily forget. It seemed impossible to forget 
one; both tried to persist in consciousness. It seemed as if 
each memory was stronger than my will, and still I had to 
determine which to drive away. Just before lunch yester- 
day, in the psychological laboratory, I chose the secondary 



ALTERNATING PERSONALITIES 197 

life ; it was strong and fresh and was able to persist. The 
primary was more clouded and easier to subdue. I tried 
alternately to throw away each, and succeeded at last in 
throwing away the primary and emerged into the secondary 
state. At Dr. G. 's office I had the same struggle over again. 

Q. Why, when you were lying upon the lounge, did you 
resist our efforts to change your position? A. I wanted to 
be alone to decide which life to give up. At this time the 
question arose, whether I could not possibly take both, 
whether I should try and forsake either at all. I felt I 
must decide now whether to have this struggle daily, that 
is, to decide upon one only; I now wondered whether I 
might not accept both. 

The first time the question arose I was in the inter- 
mediary state; the question was, Which of the two lives I 
should reject f The second question in my mind arose when 
I was at Dr. G. 's office. It was, whether I should take one 
or both lives. The second question was one that ought log- 
ically to have been decided prior to that considered the 
first time. I recognized that it was necessary to choose one 
or to take both. The question now was, whether one or 
both ; the mental struggle was great, it was hard to decide. 
(Mr. Hanna found it extremely difficult to express the 
mental struggle of the two states.) I decided to take both 
lives as mine, because of the fear and anxiety that the 
struggle would be repeated again and again. The mental 
agony experienced in the struggle of the two lives was too 
great to endure ; the decision had to be made. I determined 
to end the struggle, and make a final decision. I decided 
to accept both lives as mine — a condition that could not be 
worse than the uncertainty I was in. I then felt that the 
oft-repeated struggle would ruin my mind. The struggle 
was very severe and the mental agony great. 

It never seemed possible to me that loss of one's mem- 
ory could be so complete. I could not in either state pre- 
pare my mind for the amalgamation of the two states, be- 



198 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

cause I couldn 't realize them both together. I have now re- 
tained both memories ; / am sure both are mine. They are 
separate, and I cannot yet fit the two well together. For 
instance, I can remember the hours of the primary state of 
Sunday morning, but I cannot recall just where to fit them 
in, and I do not know whether to put them before or after 
going to church. (Mr. Hanna, on the way to church, passed 
into the secondary state.) I cannot arrange the events in a 
chronological order. Secondary and primary states have 
breaks and intervals in them, as though there were periods 
of sleep. The secondary state is stronger and brighter, but 
not more stable. 

Q. How about your picture dreams? A. I then called 
the vivid ones "dreams," but I think I should now call 
them visions. 

Mr. Hanna was reminded that in Plantsville Dr. S. had 
read beginnings of Hebrew passages to him, and that he 
had continued the recital of the entire passage. He was 
now asked to describe his mental state at that time. He 
said: 

"Yes, I remember that; it came to me then as when a 
quotation, for instance, is recalled to mind suddenly and 
one can't remember where or when it was learned. One 
does not realize he has ever learned or heard it before; he 
can't associate it in his experience. It came to me just like 
a mental flash. It startled me then, because for all the five 
weeks prior to that time and dating from the accident I 
had a clear recollection and association for all I knew ; I had 
carefully retained all, but that flash of 'unknown memory' 
was a wonder to me. On reflection I realized it must belong 
to the past life about which I had been told so much." 

Q. Do you remember that you fell from the carriage? 
A. Yes, I remember falling out of the carriage. 

Q. What is the next you remember about the fall? A. 
I remember my brother going to help me, and then I went 
to sleep. 



ALTERNATING PERSONALITIES 199 

Q. And when did you wake up? A. In about three 
hours. 

Q. After you awoke, were you able to speak ? A. No. 

Q. Could you have spoken by force of will? A. No, I 
didn't know a single word. 

Q. Last night I asked you if you had made up your 
mind to have the two lives combined, is your mind made 
up fully now? A. Yes. 

Q. Do you still consider them separate? A. I am sure 
they are both mine, but they are separate in this sense, that 
I cannot fit the parts of one into the space of the other. I do 
not know how to unify them. For instance, I can remem- 
ber three hours when I was in the primary state one morn- 
ing, but I do not know what date to fit that in. I remember 
rising, dressing and going to breakfast, and that is all I re- 
member in the primary state, but I do not know when that 
was, what day that was. I have not learned to fit them in 
the chronological order. The secondary state has breaks 
in it that are like sleep, and the primary state has breaks 
in it also. I will have to learn the dates better before I am 
able to fit them together. 

Q. Which of the two memories do you retain the most 
easily, the primary or secondary ? A. Both alike, in a gen- 
eral way. The difference is that the secondary state is a 
little stronger and brighter, but it is no better maintained. 
There are more details in it, which I remember vividly. 

Q. Have you any reasons more or less personal to care 
to remain rather in the primary or in the secondary state? 
A. No, I cannot choose now, I have decided. 

Q. Have you any reasons, any personal reasons, to pre- 
fer to remain in the primary or in the secondary state or to 
retain both ? * A. No. 

Q. Last night you spoke to me as if you would like to 
remain in one state rather than the other; that there were 

1 Because of the sluggishness of the patient's comprehension at this 
time, some of the questions were necessarily repeated. 



200 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

two reasons why you would prefer to remain in the pri- 
mary state rather than in the secondary ? A. No, I meant 
to say that there were moral questions that have come up 
before me since I have joined both. For instance, these two 
men that I spoke of last night, and similar things. 

Q. Well, explain if you can. A. It is this, there are 
two men who, since the two states are joined into one, give 
me good reasons to change my relations to them. They 
would have been my enemies if they could. In my sec- 
ondary state, of course, I did not know that ; there was no 
one to tell me, and they took advantage of the secondary 
state, introduced themselves, and got promises that no one 
else would have been able to get. I tell you this as an ex- 
ample of questions that come in my mind since, because I 
have learned people differently in the secondary state, and 
compared with the complete state it makes quite a differ- 
ence. Some people I cannot trust now that I did trust be- 
fore. In my secondary state I believed every word they 
told me. I have simply given this to prove to you what has 
been passing through my mind since I have joined the two 
lives. It is a question to know what to do in this case. 
Whether to fulfil these promises I had made in one state 
and which I would not have made in my full state, or to 
try to compromise the two. 

Q. Do you feel that you are responsible for the promises 
you have made in the secondary state? A. That is the 
question. You see, if they are contradictory, I cannot be 
responsible for both; but you can understand what a con- 
fusion there must be in a person's mind, for everyone that 
I have met with, old or new friends, has been in certain re- 
lations to me. I am not speaking of anyone in particular, 
but it is very confusing, and it will be confusing and em- 
barrassing for them, too, for they have been explaining 
things to me and teaching me like a child to talk, and 
so on. 

Mr. Hanna gave the above account in a clear, precise 



ALTERNATING PERSONALITIES 201 

way; slowly and apparently with mental effort, though 
with a full and exact idea of what he was intending to con- 
vey. The two personalities have merged their individual 
minds into one personal consciousness. The two individual 
lives have gone to form the complete healthy life of one 
individual, the present Mr. Hanna. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF DUAL LIFE 
EXPERIENCE 

About six months after Mr. Hanna 's complete recovery, 
at our request he furnished us with the following personal 
account of his experience since the accident, April 15, 1897 : 



The first return to consciousness on the night of April 
15, 1897, may be understood only by comparing it to the 
birth of a person possessed immediately of matured mental 
and physical functions. The first memories are the most 
vivid of all, and the difficulty in describing them is from 
want of a parallel as comparison. During the first rudi- 
ments of consciousness, there was absolute lack of knowl- 
edge that an outside world was in existence. The eyes 
were closed, there were no sounds to be heard and the 
power of motion was not yet known. How long this first 
state, without knowledge of anything in the material world, 
really lasted, is not possible to say. Simple memory would 
represent it as a period of many years, so great was the 
mental activity and so wonderful were even the meagre 
facts of consciousness. But the fact that absolutely 
no motion was made, even of the eyelids, and that no 
sound was heard, although the room was full of watchers, 
apparently indicates that the state was of but an instant's 
duration. In fact, later experiences which left on me the 
impression that would now be made by the life-happenings 
of many years, really continued only for a few moments, 
according to the positive testimony of others who observed 
them. Thus, if memory, with its present habits of com- 
parison, was to be trusted for a verdict, my life for the 

202 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 203 

first few days would be declared to cover a few centuries, 
and this impression has been corrected only by force of the 
most vigorous reasoning on my part and the exercise of the 
perfect power of the will in forming beliefs. 

The mental tension of the first state was relieved by a 
sensation of breathing. This was the first breath since the 
return of the sense of touch or ' ' feeling, ' ' which was doubt- 
less at the same time as the return of consciousness, and the 
sensation brought a feeling of intense wonder. Consciousness 
had apparently returned at the time of the full breath as 
this first sensation was of exhaling, as the lungs became 
empty and the heart-beat was felt. This was a new object 
of study and the mind was not slow to direct itself toward 
it. It is necessary to state in this connection that the 
local physicians of Plantsville, then attending, report that 
during the last half hour of unconsciousness the breathing 
was so faint and the heart-action so weak that at times even 
the most careful observation failed to distinguish either. 
This shows that at the first moment of consciousness the 
sense-perception was acute. There seems to have been an 
immediate, complete restoration of every mental and phys- 
ical power, as the subsequent narration will continue to 
show. Inhalation and exhalation followed normally. 

Although breathing was involuntary, yet the fact was 
noticed that its rapidity varied according to the degree in 
which the attention was fixed upon it. I remember the 
great effort to vary the breathing to every form from a 
short, quick gasp to a deep sigh. This I have been told was 
the first sign to the watchers of returning consciousness. 
In spite of all that the mind had experienced in that won- 
derful moment, those who had watched so carefully had 
been able to observe absolutely nothing of the return to 
conscious life or rather the birth into a new life. The vio- 
lent exertion in varying the breathing brought to those 
present grave fears, although there was actually no danger. 
These were merely the experiments of a man who had just 



204 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

found that lie could breathe. During this breathing also 
the sense of hearing was first discovered, and it was almost 
instantly learned that the breathing could be made more 
or less distinctly heard, according to the wish. In this way 
the breathing became at times inaudible and again so loud 
as to amount almost to a snort. At this time the power of 
motion in the face was learned principally by the mouth 
and nostrils, and it was no wonder that those taking care 
of me were alarmed by the contortions of the face and the 
spasms of the chest. 

Voices and movements were now heard in the room, 
breathing paused for a moment, arrested by this new won- 
der. On commencing once more the violent breathing and 
the movements of the face, the eyes suddenly opened 
quite involuntarily, and here indeed was a new world 
of wonder and study. Objects were all alike as to dis- 
tance, shape and thickness, but the variety of color was 
the feature of interest. The room was a great, beau- 
tiful picture, absolutely without movement or distance 
beyond the eye. There was as yet no motion of the head 
or limbs, but the eyes were restlessly moving about as far 
as the field of vision allowed. Yet at the next breath the 
motion of the chest was seen, and in watching that, the 
head was felt to move. Having learned this new power, the 
head was soon turned here and there and rolled about 
ceaselessly until the violent effort soon caused a motion of 
the shoulders and then of the arms, which were tossing 
backward and forward and groping and feeling about in 
the great desire to learn all that was to be learned. 

At this time one of the attendants standing near the 
door moved a step or two. Expecting that this motion, like 
the others, was connected with my own power, I reached out 
toward the person who had moved, and was much surprised 
at not being able to touch the object and repeat the move- 
ment. In the effort to reach farther and farther, the body 
and limbs came into use. After some effort I learned to 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 205 

walk imperfectly a step or two, and persisting in the search, 
I reached the person who had moved, and gave him a vig- 
orous push. I was well rewarded by seeing him move, but 
surprised that he directed his motion violently toward me. 
The other men in the room also came forward, and the fact 
dawned upon me, now too late, that there were others like 
myself in existence, and that they expected to have an in- 
fluence in regulating my movements. They pushed me 
without much trouble back to the bed, but my unwilling- 
ness to be opposed was very great and another effort placed 
me beyond their control. 

I have been asked many times to account for the re- 
markable strength then at my command, but I cannot do 
so. Furthermore, it is now my desire to give facts, not 
theories. My only thought was to resist with my utmost 
exertion the well-meant efforts of the men, who in turn mis- 
understood my motives. My only wish was to defeat them 
that I might be free from them. There was no idea of per- 
sonal danger, and consequently no sense of fear. I gave 
myself to the object in view with a complete abandon that 
is proved by the wounds and bruises received which an ex- 
perienced person would have guarded against, perhaps, by 
withholding some of his strength. 

The three men who were first engaged with me in the 
struggle were all heavier than I and one was far taller. The 
first man to interest me was the one who had first moved 
and he was thrown to the door, and the others were pushed 
back. Another man caught me by the throat and this trans- 
ferred my interest to him. He was soon thrown down and 
held fast, regardless of the efforts of the other two men to 
gain control. I meant no harm, and although two of the 
men were where I could have inflicted serious injury, I was 
satisfied to keep affairs in statu quo and none of us suffered 
except by bruises and lameness and dishevelled clothing. 
However, it was impossible for me to rise without releasing 
the one against whom I felt the greatest opposition as being 



206 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

the one who had caught me by the throat. And thus we re- 
mained, neither side being able to gain the desired ad- 
vantage until another man was summoned from the neigh- 
borhood. After another severe struggle, the four gained 
control, and my arms were tied behind my back. This pro- 
duced considerable pain, but worst of all was the hateful 
feeling of helplessness, and so I was tossing and writhing 
as though in great agony. 

At this time the family to whose house I had been 
brought returned and learned of the evening's experiences, 
and the desire was to release me from the painful restric- 
tions. This was done without the knowledge of the attend- 
ants. I was heartily glad to be released and glad that 
there was no attempt to renew hostilities. The time was 
spent in watching those present, and wondering at the 
strange sounds and movements by which they seemed to 
understand each other. 

I was beginning to see that people were kindly disposed 
toward me after all, and it was a great trial indeed that I 
was not able to talk as I saw them do, in order that I might 
tell them that my previous actions had resulted from a mis- 
understanding and not from intentional harm on my part. 
However, I was still suspicious of the attendants and would 
not allow anyone's hand near my throat or face. Soon ex- 
haustion overcame me, and, as I am now told, the remainder 
of the night was spent in a comatose state. 



n 

The next day (Friday) the awakening brought a con- 
tinuance of the experiences of the preceding evening. My 
great desire was to learn to talk and to this end I repeated 
every phrase I overheard, but I found that people either 
were puzzled or misunderstood my meaning. And so I gave 
up this attempt for the time being. I was suffering from 
great hunger, but did not know that it was possible to sat- 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 207 

isfy my wants until at last a little food was brought and I 
was taught to drink from a glass. Having learned how to 
eat, I took nourishment so eagerly that there was fear to 
provide more, and my greatest inconvenience for the first 
two or three days was from hunger and the inability to 
state the need. 

One of the friends at last appreciated the fact that I 
was fully able to learn to talk, but had merely lost the use 
of words, and she consequently set to work to teach me to 
talk. The first lesson was "apple." After hearing the 
word repeated several times, I understood that it was de- 
sired that I should say it likewise, and so I did, and was re- 
warded by being taught to eat the apple. Yet my idea of 
the meaning of the word was very vague. To me "apple" 
was an expression of the thought "food," and my con- 
stantly calling for "apple" was simply the expression of 
my desire to eat, although it was interpreted as an expres- 
sion of an inordinate desire for fruit, and consequently my 
diet was even more restricted. 

The next words were the imitation of the "tick-tick" of 
the watch, and the word ' ' watch ' ' itself. After this, words 
were learned with remarkable rapidity, needing to be ex- 
plained only once in order to become permanently a part of 
my vocabulary. Of course, parts of speech other than 
nouns and verbs were more difficult of explanation, but 
everything was well understood as soon as it was made clear 
to me. It was, however, a long time before the use of the 
pronoun was substituted for the use of the proper name. 

Strictly speaking, there was not a question of learning 
to talk, but rather of learning to understand. Every word 
could be correctly repeated without difficulty, and as soon 
as once satisfactorily explained, was always correctly used. 
The arduous task was to define each word in terms of the 
limited vocabulary already at command. Concrete nouns, 
especially the names of objects in the room, were easily 
learned, but certain verbs and other parts of speech were 



208 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

hard of illustration. Expression by the hands and face were 
of great effect in presenting the root idea of a word, but 
often failed to make clear whether a noun, or verb, or ad- 
jective was intended. 

After learning in this way by repetition, it was natural 
that the personal pronouns should present some difficulty. 
For example, "you" was understood as being the denom- 
inative applied to me, and "me" as applied to the one ad- 
dressing me. Consequently, on commencing to use these 
words, I referred to myself as "you," and to the interlocu- 
tor as "me" or "I." It was some time before the fact 
could be learned that "I" and "you" might refer to the 
same person if used by different speakers. 

While stating that a word once defined was always 
remembered, it must be acknowledged that a great many 
ridiculous mistakes were made, from the fact that only the 
first bare definition was known in exclusion of any shades 
of meaning, or of the scope of the term. A fowl was seen 
through the window and was described as a "black hen." 
I had already been taught the names of two or three colors, 
white, green and pink, but did not know the word "black" 
or the word "hen," consequently I understood "black-hen" 
as one word, the name of the creature. A moment later, 
seeing another fowl which was white, I referred to it as a 
"white black-hen." Having learned imperfectly the use of 
the word "talk," and understanding that it referred to 
the motion of the mouth, I at first described the process of 
eating as "talking" the food. 

Long argument was required to convince me that I was 
a human being, or, as I then expressed it, ' ' people. ' ' I had 
noticed that I had many of the physical characteristics of 
others, but as they were always walking or standing fully 
dressed for active daily life, able to talk and to act freely, 
while I was kept in bed and obliged to learn everything la- 
boriously, led me to think that I was a creature of a differ- 
ent order. When told that some day I would walk about 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 209 

and look like other people, I at once wished to know 
whether I would wear a dress, or a coat, or trousers. 

Ideas of time were taught to me by holding a watch and 
naming as a minute the time required for the revolution of 
the second hand. Large divisions were denned with rela- 
tion to this, but were at first scarcely understood, or at least 
scarcely realized, although constant reference to the watch 
and a comparison of its different indices were of assistance. 

There was no idea of distance beyond a few feet. The 
out-door world appeared through the window as a picture 
whose details occasionally moved, as when a man or a dog 
passed or when the trees waved. The room was the world, 
into which persons came into existence or were annihilated 
at the doorway. It was soon evident, however, that per- 
sons carried on an existence outside the room, and later 
that by mentioning a person's name he would appear on 
the scene. And so everyone who had visited the room and 
whose name I had heard was called for, and I could by no 
means understand what was meant by saying that so-and- 
so was many miles away, or "lived down in Plantsville. " 
I entertained the idea that everyone I had seen was just 
outside the door, and could have been reached at a mo- 
ment's notice. 

A mirror was given to me by chance, and seeing my 
image in it, I attempted to find the face behind the glass, 
but it had disappeared. Again and again the effort was 
made to find the person who had eyes and mouth which he 
could move as other persons could do. There was no idea 
that the face was a picture of anyone in the room until by 
chance the glass was turned so that other objects and per- 
sons were seen reflected in it, and on using a larger glass, 
the whole matter was explained. 

in 
Saturday morning, the absence of pain in the head was 

noticed. This pain had been severe, but had been ignored 
15 



210 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

by me, I suppose, because, being constant, I was not aware 
of it as an abnormal condition. Now that it was absent 
mostly, yet returning by spells, the difference between the 
normal condition and the condition of pain was appre- 
ciated, but it was puzzling to the attendants to hear now 
of severe pain in the head, when formerly none had been 
complained of. The pain was an intense, hot pressure, 
such as would be felt under a great weight of hot metal on 
the head. The periods of relief were so welcome that there 
was a desire to laugh hysterically or to get up and jump 
about. The pain was described by me as "big push on 
the head," which was to be interpreted as severe pressure 
on the head. 

There was a great desire to see and become acquainted 
with people and to hear them talk. An extraordinary mem- 
ory was manifested in afterward recognizing people once 
introduced to me. A general lively conversation was 
scarcely understood at all, but the meaning of a detached 
sentence could often be guessed by thinking over the words 
in all possible relations, so that sometimes much more was 
overheard by me than others suspected. However, as most 
of the remarks had reference to the accident or to my for- 
mer life, their bearing was wholly incomprehensible, as 
there was no idea in my mind of my former life. 

When my former life was first mentioned to me, I re- 
fused to accept it, being still suspicious of everything but 
the evidence of my own senses. This opinion would prob- 
ably have been held until the general credibility of the 
friends had been established by other facts had it not been 
for one or two chance suggestions. Inquiring into the cause 
of the different color of the hands, face and neck from that 
of other portions of the body, it was accounted for as result- 
ing from the sunlight upon such portions of the body as 
were unprotected by clothing. This was further illustrated 
by the same effect in the case of other men, and as it was a 
plausible explanation, there seemed a probability that I 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 211 

also had at one time worn clothes like other men. This sug- 
gestion opened a new and wonderful world, and there was 
feverish eagerness to learn all the details of that other life. 

These details seemed incredible, but there was no flaw 
in the consistency of the accounts given by different per- 
sons, and in fact other proofs were brought, such as my 
photograph, unmistakably like my own image in the mir- 
ror, yet dressed in clothing which I could not remember 
wearing at any time. Great was my disgust at being 
obliged to depend on others for an account of what I was 
accustomed to say and do, and of my appearance in that 
other life. Having learned that I had dressed and walked 
about, like other people, it was almost impossible to per- 
suade me to remain in the bed, and in fact the only suc- 
cessful persuasive was the promise of the desired liberty in 
the near future. 

The first attempts at walking were very crude, and the 
instructions of other persons only increased the awkward- 
ness of the ludicrous performance. The promenade was 
confined to the one room, but a view had been obtained of 
the adjoining room, and great was the curiosity to learn 
the mystery of the other room. 

The next day a conversation was overheard in which 
it was stated that "the men will come again." Now it 
must be explained that "the men" to my mind referred 
to the four people as they appeared and acted oh the first 
night during the fearful struggle. Since then all the men 
had seen me and had excited no alarm or antagonism in 
my mind. There was a belief in my mind that the person 
was known by the expression of the face and by the name 
applied. Thus, while the name of some of them indicated 
the kindly, genial persons who came occasionally to chat 
with me and aid me in every way, on the other hand, ' ' the 
men" indicated the harsh, determined fighters of the 
memorable Thursday night. Yet both were recognized as 
having the same general appearance and bodily form. As 



212 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

soon as it was known that "the men" were coming, there 
was an irrepressible desire to leave the bedroom. So per- 
sistent was this wish that after repeated refusals by differ- 
ent friends, and with an unwillingness on my part to use 
violence again, the most earnest pleadings were entered 
upon. The pleadings were so urgent that some left the 
room from pity, and the others were at last persuaded to 
grant the request. The developments showed the fears to 
have been without foundation. A part of the night was 
passed in the other room, as it was termed, and then find- 
ing that "the men" did not return, and after obtaining 
the promise of going again to the other room at any time, 
I was satisfied to return to bed. 

The next day, while walking in the other room, it be- 
came evident that the great blanket used as a garment was 
impeding the process of walking, and the piece of rope was 
picked up which had been used to secure my arms during 
the struggle of the first night, and which had caused me not 
only some pain, but a great horror of helplessness in the 
hands of "the men." On seeing this rope was to be 
passed around me, I misunderstood its purpose, and snatch- 
ing it from the hands of the others, hurled it violently 
across the room. It was two or three days before I learned 
to dissociate the events of the first night from the facts 
of every-day life, and to appreciate that "the men" had 
been kind-hearted, but mistaken. 



IV 

In every respect the desire was to ape others, and this 
willingness was often played upon by friends for their own 
amusement rather than for the cultivation of any dignity 
or even self-respect in me. I could be induced to imitate 
with the most serious face any ridiculous performance, un- 
til I came to distinguish between the desire to teach and the 
desire to make sport. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 213 

It may be well to mention certain peculiar facts, which, 
although not scientifically ascertained, are positive facts of 
memory and are also vouched for by well-qualified ob- 
servers. There was not only a remarkable acuteness of 
such faculties as sight, hearing, touch and memory, but 
there were well-witnessed feats which cannot ordinarily be 
accomplished by the five senses. A pair of handcuffs which 
had been brought for use on the night of the struggle, but 
were not used, happened to come to my passing notice. On 
observing that friends were reluctant about explaining 
their purpose, great curiosity and interest were aroused in 
me. As this interest grew, the apprehension of the friends 
also increased, and efforts were made to hide the articles in 
question. But wherever they were hidden, either up-stairs 
or down, even in an obscure closet at the other end of 
the house, I could, without hesitation, go to the spot and 
discover the article. This was without the article or its 
hiding-place being mentioned to anyone, and the latter be- 
ing known only to the one having hidden the handcuffs. A 
small coin was many times held in a person's hand while I 
was asked to guess in which hand it was. The guess was 
correct in every case, and even when the coin was left out 
of both hands, I indicated the fact by a shake of the head. 
There was no consciousness of any faculty by which these 
things were ascertained, neither were the results by any 
means guesswork; there was a positive conviction. The 
sense appeared to be more like instinct. It was as though 
some reliable authority had told the fact, and then the tell- 
ing had been forgotten, but the fact remembered. 

Memory was extraordinarily acute. When a number of 
people were brought to the room, a complete mental picture 
was formed, so that I afterward could tell everything each 
person had done, the articles of dress, and a description of 
the features. This was the case even when there was a 
large number of persons, strangers even to my former life, 
and even when they remained but a moment in the room. 



214 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

But beside this mental picture, there was memory of the 
names of the persons introduced, and of every word that 
they had distinctly spoken while present. 

On going as before mentioned into other rooms, the fact 
was noticed that there were "two out-of-doors," and later 
that there were four "out-of-doors," as seen from the dif- 
ferent windows. Still later it was learned by me with great 
wonder that the "four out-of-doors" were all one great 
"out-of-doors," completely surrounding the house. It was 
with much caution and hesitation that the first steps were 
taken out of the house. Instead of a draught of air through 
a window as the room had been aired, there was a volume 
of delicious atmosphere which gave an almost fearful 
impression of vastness. Stepping on the piazza, great was 
the surprise to see a floor without carpet or rugs, and the 
ground had even a more treacherous appearance, as it was 
some time before I could be convinced that it afforded a 
safe footing. 

After touching the soft turf and reaching out in the ex- 
pectation of touching the distant trees of the orchard as a 
child reaches out to grasp the moon, an idea was formed of 
the immensity of even that small portion of the world. A 
determination was at once arrived at to go as soon as per- 
mitted and walk and investigate all these wonders. 



The distinction between animal and vegetable life was 
difficult to grasp. How could the trees wave if they were 
not alive"? What was meant by growth when no motion 
was visible? The clouds in their motion were marvellous 
and were said to "boil," because their appearance and mo- 
tion were like the steam from the tea-kettle, and as words 
were often misunderstood in their exact reference, the word 
"boil" was taken as describing the outward, visible effect, 
rather than the unseen process. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 215 

But of all the mysteries, life itself was the greatest. The 
first ideas were that this life so mysteriously begun would 
be continued for but a few days, and that even while it ex- 
isted, other persons and things were constantly coming into 
being and going out again, as they appeared and disap- 
peared. Even when told that life might last for many 
years, no conception of this fact was formed. There was no 
horror of the extinction of life. There was no knowledge 
of death. There was simply the thought that as there was 
a period of oblivion behind, so all at once again knowledge 
would cease. Later this brought great dissatisfaction, for 
the world was becoming so interesting, and life so dear, 
that it was with much regret that a thought was entertained 
of leaving everything. The belief was firm, probably taken 
for granted from the information that I had lived before 
the present consciousness, that there would be further fut- 
ure distinct existences, with complete forgetfulness of each 
preceding. These would differ from the separate experi- 
ences from day to day, because the latter were connected 
by a constant memory. 

There was a noticeable passion for music. The first 
emotions on hearing beautiful vocal or instrumental music 
were pleasant, but this became so intense and such a power- 
ful enthusiasm was felt as to have even a painful effect, 
and many times tears would flow down my cheeks. Hymns 
were the favorite selections, and yet the words were never 
listened to, but there was something direct and touching in 
the tune of such a hymn as "Jesus, Lover of My Soul." 
In fact, the effort to grasp the meaning of the words had 
invariably the effect of almost entirely destroying this in- 
tense delight. In vocal music, nothing depended on the 
words sung, but everything on the tunes, and the quality of 
the voice that rendered the songs. Even in conversation, 
the first quality noticed in a person was the voice. A beau- 
tiful voice was far more attractive than beauty of feature 
or ease of manner even of a kindly disposition. There was 



216 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

no time when the kindly tone of voice could not prevail, 
when both harshness and inducement were useless. How- 
ever, it must be said that this was not peculiar to the con- 
dition following the accident, but was rather intensified at 
that time. 

In music, there was a phenomenal ear for discord, 
and a decided dislike. Sometimes two or three per- 
sons in another room would strike a number of chords 
strongly and make one very slight discord. The effect was 
to disguise the discord so that well-trained ears failed to 
observe it, yet I always detected it the moment the false 
note was sounded. No such effect was noticed, when the 
same chords were played without the false note. 

One afternoon a friend brought a banjo, and although 
I had never handled one before, I learned in about an hour 
to play three selections, none of which I had ever heard in 
my previous life. Thus, in many ways it was proven that 
the readiness to learn was not confined to subjects with 
which there had formerly been familiarity. Both the 
banjo and the piano were learned at this time by mere 
imitation of the motion of others. 

In attempts at writing there was equal facility with 
both hands, although preference was given to the left. 
There was a great perplexity and disgust at the use of so 
many forms of one letter, the printed and the script, the 
capitals and lower case of letters, to say nothing of the dif- 
ferent letters of one sound, and the different sounds for 
one letter. 

Yet there were desires to learn books and letters, and 
several hours were spent every day with a painstaking 
teacher in learning word by word of the mother-tongue as 
printed. A word once explained was permanent property, 
and yet there was great difficulty on the part of the teacher 
in remembering what words I knew, and which could there- 
fore be used in defining the new words. In speaking, such 
expressions as a "pink pink" were confusing. "A white 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 217 

rose" or a "purple violet" were all well enough; but how 
could a flower be called by the name of a color, when some 
of the same were of other colors ? What was the sense of a 
red pink or a white pink ? Or if pink could be the name of 
a flower, how could there be a pink rose ? 

VI 

Long walks soon became the fascination, and it was 
during one of these that the whistling of the little brown 
frogs in a neighboring pond brought into reality what had 
been considered the vaguest, dimmest dream, so unreal as 
not to be worth relating to anyone. But now there was a 
suggestion of reality, and on inquiry it was learned that 
the dim dream was a meagre memory of an actual occur- 
rence. The memory was of lying back in my carriage 
(which I had lately seen and examined with curiosity) and 
with eyes almost closed, seeing nothing but a few lights and 
shadows, and the indistinct figure of the horse ahead racing 
along, as it seemed to me, at a frantic speed. My brother 's 
voice was beside me, shouting loudly at the horse, but hold- 
ing me with both hands and rubbing my cheeks and putting 
his face often to my lips. Then the last was the beautiful, 
soothing sound of the frogs whistling in the pond, and 
with an emotion of peculiar enjoyment I fell asleep, as it 
seemed, with that sound last in my ears. I attempted to re- 
call something further, but nothing would return until the 
awakening and the awful struggle. 

Carriage rides were soon permitted, but the walks were 
far preferable and I enjoyed them most when alone. It was 
vexatious to see some person coming over the hills to call me 
to dinner or with the announcement that some "friend," 
who was nevertheless really a total stranger, had come and 
was very desirous of seeing me. Even to sit in one spot and 
think and dream by the hour was the height of enjoyment. 
At other times the endless flower life (just beginning to be 



218 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

seen) and the birds and trees and sky were all the heart 
could wish. A sunset was the acme of beauty. 

I had been told that the other members of the family 
were to come soon to see me, and after a description of 
them and an understanding as to what should be my bear- 
ing toward them, and what affection I owed them, there 
did spring up a strong desire to meet those whom I came in 
this strange way to love. The situation was further made 
plain by the evident affection between others who were 
mutually related. 

At this time the first trip to New York was taken for 
medical consultation. The journey was full of happenings 
of interest, though the novelty was no more attractive than 
had been the visits to other houses in my native town. The 
whole world was so new and remarkable that a railway 
train or a twenty-story building were no more interesting 
than a cow or a hay-loft. It was later that these propor- 
tions were established. The ocean was the one view that 
made a truly powerful impression on the mind. The dis- 
cussions with the doctor (not one of the two who finally 
and successfully took up the investigation of my case) were 
of interest and food for reflection. There was no encourage- 
ment to me in his statement of the possibility of recovery, 
because I was satisfied with the present condition, and in 
fact the descriptions given me of my former life had served 
only to confuse my mind, and I feared a recovery would 
involve an overwhelming and crushing revelation of mul- 
titudinous facts. It was later, on learning that the re- 
covery would involve the acquisition of the knowledge once 
possessed, and which was now so much envied in others, 
that there was that strong desire, peculiar to the latter con- 
dition of regaining the past life. The advice was that there 
was no mental or physical deficiency and that I should 
recommence the lessons of life. 

It was in this process that the second accident occurred. 
The accident, however, was not due to the condition, but 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 219 

would have occurred to any other man in the same way. I 
was riding horseback, which was not difficult for me to 
learn. In riding at a high speed around a corner the stir- 
rup strap broke under the strain, unavoidably throwing the 
rider. In falling, the saddle was caught and pulled awry, 
but despite this slight relief the fall was serious. The in- 
jury to the back was excruciatingly painful, and for a time 
prevented walking to the house. The after effects were 
even more serious, and compelled confinement under med- 
ical treatment for some weeks. The only disappointment to 
me was that I had not first learned more of the world be- 
fore being shut out from it. Reading was also prevented 
almost wholly, although the lessons were in some measure 
continued. 



vn 

A period of discouragement followed the first relief 
from the pain of injury. There was always the thought 
that if there had been a few more days to see the world, it 
would have been easy to bear the confinement. However, 
as the days passed, there was much more hope in the faces 
of friends, and the future again looked bright. 

About this time the specialists from New York, to 
whom I owe so much, commenced their visits and afforded 
subjects of immense interest. The first visit by one of the 
specialists from New York was doubtless for the purpose of 
satisfying himself of the nature of the trouble. 

The habit of implicit obedience to the attendants, care- 
fully formed in the past weeks, brought now a serious dif- 
ficulty, for I was commanded by the specialists to remember 
certain facts in my past life, and it was wholly impossible 
for me to do so. The effect of this condition can never be 
understood by others, because, in the first place, an ordi- 
nary lapse of memory is different. Though a person forgets, 
he realizes that he has forgotten and that at once makes a 



220 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

point of connection. In my case, while there was a vague 
belief in the testimony of friends that there had been a 
former life with such and such occurrences, yet this fact 
was not actually grasped in such a sense as to enable a 
realization of what remembering involved. In the second 
place, it is a frequent occurrence in ordinary life that a 
person is accustomed to forget, and by an effort, to remem- 
ber, but in my case there had been absolutely no such 
thing as a conscious failure of memory since the accident, 
so that I did not know how to ' ' remember, ' ' and could not 
understand how it was possible to "forget." Further, a 
person in ordinary life is accustomed to follow his own 
wish in questions of obedience. For a while he is desirous 
of granting the request of a friend ; he knows that if the 
grant is impossible, he is at liberty to decline ; but in my 
case I had, since the struggle on the first night, done noth- 
ing except to give implicit obedience, and the dilemma of 
an impossible obedience was a new one. There seemed to 
be something wrong with the machinery of the will. 

Later, the memory tests under the direction of the spe- 
cialists in charge of the case were of great importance to 
me, for while I evinced a memory far better than the nor- 
mal, yet of course there were some figures or letters in the 
list that could not be recalled. This was the first conscious 
forgetting. There was a realization that something had 
been lost and a knowledge where to search for it. In a few 
cases the absent numbers were regained, and nearly all 
could be recognized when renamed by the examiner. This 
discovery of the possibility of forgetting and regaining 
made a profound impression upon me. 

VIII 

As to the character of my dreams, I may say that they 
were of two kinds, though it was not known that either kind 
was of importance till they were related by me at the re- 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 221 

quest of the specialists. The ordinary dreams referred in- 
variably to the life since the accident, and as this was the 
only life to me, these dreams were the only ones of interest 
to me. I found great amusement in comparing their cir- 
cumstances with those of the real life, ridiculing their in- 
consistencies and wondering vastly at their connection with 
one another. These ordinary dreams differed from normal 
dreams only in that they were necessarily limited in their 
subjects and situations, and yet were more extravagant 
even "than a dream." The other "dreams" were an un- 
conscious reliving of the early life. 1 To me they were 
the merest imagination, until I was assured by my friends 
that their scenes had been actual. They were not dreams in 
any true sense, but were actual memories by a mind so 
freed from the gross material of ordinary existence as to 
actually live in the past. Not only a faithful photograph 
was preserved, but a phonographic record as well, so that 
conversations could be remembered, and strange to say, con- 
versations that otherwise have been wholly lost even to the 
normal memory. These were much more actual and vivid 
than dreams, and as I later learned were identical with the 
real experiences as far as the latter can now be remem- 
bered, the memory dreams reproducing details which are 
not now contradicted by memory, yet which have escaped 
amid a crowd of other matters. 

In reference to the flashes 2 of the past during waking 
hours, it may be said that they came without an effort of 
the will, but vfere forced upon the mind. These flashes I 
felt as violent intrusion of ideas seemingly foreign, yet un- 
avoidable. That they referred to the past life was believed 
by me on authority, but was not yet realized. When, on 
Listening to the reading of Hebrew verses, I was able to re- 
peat other verses from memory beyond those read by the 

1 Mr. Hanna refers here to hypnoidic states. He wrote this without 
reading our statement of the case. 

2 Mr. Hanna refers here to the hypnoidal states. 



222 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

examiner, I felt as if they were being spoken by another 
mind using my tongue. When listening to a song, the 
names of two singers in a distant city came to my mind. 
I, however, had no memory of their having rendered the 
song or who they were. I could only remember the first 
names of the singers and the tones of their voices, and even 
these memories did not appear as such, but seemed like the 
statement of another person with my own voice. 

IX 

I was again taken to New York to undergo a thorough 
examination and a course of treatment. The tests were 
very trying to me, yet there was so great an interest in the 
proceedings as to prevent a refusal to submit to the treat- 
ment. After the first day of the novelty of city life, a nov- 
elty more evident now because of a wider experience, I 
awoke after a good night 's sleep at about four o 'clock, with 
the full knowledge of the past life, except what had oc- 
curred since the accident. The surprise was exceedingly 
great to find oneself in bed in a typical New York home, 
when the last memory was driving over the country roads 
of Connecticut. Even this memory was not immediate, but 
rather a general remembrance of being at home and at 
work. Fortunately, the room-mate was recognized as my 
brother, and the latter being rudely awakened by me, was 
challenged for an explanation. This being made hastily, I 
was cautioned to remain quiet, while a "friend" was called. 
This friend proved to be one of the specialists. Questions 
and answers flew so fast that it was some time before I 
could realize the state of the case. I utterly refused to be- 
lieve the story of the accident and of the following weeks, 
and took the whole for a huge joke. This was natural, from 
the humor of the situation. The three persons by no 
means made a presentable appearance, yet all were ap- 
parently sincere, the doctor taking notes like a stenogra- 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 223 

pher, the brother executing a war-dance in jubilation, and 
I racking my brains for some possible motive for such a 
practical joke. The doctor was then a stranger to me, so no 
confidence would be placed in him. The brother was con- 
tinually bursting into fits of uncontrollable joy, the result 
of relief from so long a strain. 

"When questioned, I could recall events up to the time 
of my commencing to alight from the carriage. I told of 
having felt at the time an acute rheumatic pain in my knee 
which prevented its use. While attempting to relieve it by 
the other foot, the lap robe became entangled and swayed 
helplessly. This memory, then, harmonized with the state- 
ments of the others, and the conclusive proof was felt when 
a watch was seen to read 4.15, although daylight was ap- 
pearing. I remembered well that at the date of my memo- 
rable drive, daylight would not have come till much later 
than 4.15. This convinced me of the lapse of considerable 
time in accordance with the statement of the others. 

The physical sensation was of great weakness. There 
was a slight feeling of pain in the head, and my back felt 
weak. Otherwise I felt as well as usual. 

Before long, however, an uncontrollable drowsiness came, 
and after some attempts to keep awake, I was allowed to 
fall asleep. The feeling of sleepiness was at the first en- 
tirely within my control, but not realizing the necessity of 
remaining awake, a necessity that was later impressed upon 
me by the specialists, and having partially yielded to this 
feeling of drowsiness, the will was powerless even to re- 
spond to the urgent requests to resist sleep. The drowsi- 
ness was powerful, bringing a delicious sense of rest hardly 
suggested by ordinary sleep. Being awakened out of a 
heavy sleep later in the morning, I knew nothing of the ex- 
perience of the early hours, but was again living and acting 
according to the second life. It was only at a later date 
that I could learn what occurred during that half hour. 
The questions asked and the interest shown in regard to my 



224 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

condition, even while I was feeling as usual, aroused my 
curiosity and surprise. At the next awakening to the nor- 
mal, or at least to the ''primary" x state, there was memory 
for what occurred in the last primary state. As the room 
and house were different, it was evident to me that there 
had been another lapse of time, and the first inquiry was, 
' ' How long has it been this time ? ' ' The next time curiosity 
was greatly aroused because, on coming into the secondary 
state, I found myself dressed and sitting in a chair, and 
with the comfortable feeling of a good breakfast already 
eaten, and an uncomfortable feeling of pin-holes in the 
flesh made by the doctor, while I was falling asleep. I had 
no knowledge of the pain when the needles pierced the 
skin, but felt a sharp pain on awaking. However, no in- 
formation could be gained, and I was of the belief that I 
had fallen asleep, and during that time had been fed and 
dressed by others. 



In the primary state I found myself making thought- 
lessly a resolution that on again awaking in the secondary 
state I would not be alarmed at the change ; but of course, 
at the next change, there was no memory of the resolution, 
and consequently, distress was felt. While in the one state, 
I was informed of my experiences in the other, so that I 
knew in an indirect way the state of things. It was thus 
that in each state I came to a determination to assist the 
scientists in effecting a cure. Yet as each resolution was 
not known to the other state, there was not the necessary 
harmony of action. One resolution was that while in the 
primary state an effort would be made by me to remain 
awake at all hazards day and night until a continuance in 
that state seemed probable. The other resolution made in 
the secondary state was to cling to the facts of that state 

1 Mr. Hanna had become familiar with the use of the terms primary 
and secondary states. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 225 

and that life with a grip of steel, yet to allow the passing 
into what the doctors called the intermediary state, when 
they would be able to give me the facts of the other life 
while I was holding to the present also. 

The first mental struggle was during the very next pri- 
mary state, which, by the doctors' earnest request and my 
own extraordinary effort, was already prolonged to three or 
four hours. All were assembled in the ' ' laboratory ' ' ; the 
feeling of drowsiness had hitherto been resisted, but was 
growing continually more heavy, especially during the 
quiet of the experimenting. 

In vain were these interesting proceedings watched 
by me, in vain were the efforts of all, even the needle- 
points, which were not felt yet were faintly known in the 
dim receding consciousness. Yet there was that determina- 
tion to remain awake at all events, and the struggle con- 
tinued in half-consciousness for a long time. Suddenly 
there was a glimpse of the secondary life, only a glimpse, 
it is true, yet a revelation of infinito wonder as being 
the first real insight into one state from the other. In- 
stantly the thought came, "What is the use of enduring 
this severe struggle when invited into that attractive life, 
the secondary state?" This statement was not thus care- 
fully formulated, but that was the impulse of the moment, 
the feeling was just to that effect. But saying mentally 
again, "What is the use?" there was a letting go, and the 
primary life was again lost. 

While in the last instant of the primary state, as has 
been said, there was a glimpse of the secondary state, there 
was in the secondary state no memory whatever of the pri- 
mary, but just the old unshaken determination to carry out 
as far as possible the plan of the doctors. They had a full 
understanding of this peculiar mental state, and so every- 
thing was ready for the decisive battle. 

It came in the same house in which the first awaking 
to the primary state had taken place. It was early evening, 
16 



226 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

after a clay of unusual activity and enjoyment, bringing 
great fatigue and drowsiness. Struggling against this, I 
felt a severe pain in the head. There was a regret of hav- 
ing bound oneself to such & resolution, yet a determina- 
tion to stand by it at all hazards. There was every en- 
couragement from the doctors, who were eagerly plying me 
with questions and insisting on facts of the experiences of 
the other state. The persons and places of the primary life 
(learned by the doctors by questioning friends and myself 
in my different states) were mentioned and strongly im- 
pressed upon my mind. Especially those persons whom I 
knew in both states, were referred to. I was still in the sec- 
ondary state, but the other life dawned on me, and nothing 
but my will pertinaciously clung to the secondary state. 
Both states were dim and only the doctors' tiresome 
repetitions and persistent hammering on the reluctant 
mind made them gradually more real. I felt quite vexed 
at what seemed the obstinacy of the doctors, yet was 
coming more and more to feel the force of their state- 
ments. Yet even now only the first position was gained 
in the conflict, for while both lives were presented to the 
mind, where was the possibility of combining them? And 
had I not lived and felt each life? Yet how could one 
person live and feel both lives ? Here was the critical point. 
But the doctors persisted they were both my lives, and in- 
deed I knew each one was, though it is impossible to take 
two men and make them both into one. But the lives were 
constantly becoming more and more personal, until at last, 
by a deliberate, voluntary act, the two were seized, and 
have both remained for half a year to the present date, 
though for some time after the recovery it was difficult to 
dovetail together the detached portions of each life so as to 
present a continuous history. 

Mr. Hanna has fully recovered, the detached portions 
have become dovetailed, the two sharply denned personali- 
ties have been fused into one healthy, normal person. 



PART III 

CONSCIOUSNESS AND MULTIPLE 
PERSONALITY 



By BORIS SIDIS 



PART III 

CONSCIOUSNESS AND MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

By Boris Sims 



CHAPTER I 

THE MOMENT CONSCIOUSNESS 

Moments of consciousness are not all of the same type. 
The moment consciousness of the infant differs from that 
of the adult, and the moment consciousness of the brute 
differs from that of man, and still they are all of the 
genus consciousness. Consciousness, therefore, must be 
assumed as not being uniform, as not representing one 
and the same type, but as having different stages, dif- 
ferent types. Very frequently we find a confusion in psy- 
chology, a confusion which must by all means be avoided, 
in fact, it may even be termed the psychologist's fallacy. 
Whenever consciousness is spoken of, it is tacitly as- 
sumed as being that of the fully developed, adult human 
mind ; lower types of consciousness are left out of account. 
Comparative psychology and the science of psychopathol- 
ogy have opened before us new regions of consciousness. "We 
can no longer affirm with Descartes that consciousness is 
the privilege of human beings only and that all other ani- 
mals are reflex machines, with no conscious accompaniment. 
We must also take into account our companions who 
stand lower in the stage of evolution; we must allow for 
the existence of animal consciousness, and once this is ad- 

229 



230 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

mitted, where is the boundary-line? The dog, the cat, the 
bird, the serpent, the fish, the worm, the bee, the ant — all 
have psychic life, all possess some form of consciousness, 
and where in the descending series of animal life can we 
possibly put a dividing line and say here consciousness 
ends ? Mental life fades away in the animal series by slow 
degrees, and in the most humble living representative some 
elementary form of consciousness must be present. Psychi- 
atry again shows us forms of abnormal mental life, forms of 
dissolving consciousness, such as idiocy, dementia, general 
paralysis, and other forms of insanity. In short, the nor- 
mal adult human mind is certainly not the only form of 
mental life, and different types and stages of consciousness 
must be taken into consideration by the psychologist. 

The fact that the different types and stages of conscious- 
ness are not clearly formulated and not always kept in view 
by the psychologist causes much confusion in psychological 
discussion. Thus, as we have just pointed out, whenever 
consciousness is spoken of, self-consciousness is always 
tacitly assumed. Whenever, therefore, this last form of 
psychic activity is absent, consciousness itself is said to be 
lacking, and if any act is the result, it is said to be a case 
of pure ' ' automatism, ' ' the effect of unconscious physiolog- 
ical processes, with no conscious concomitant whatever. So 
great, in fact, is this confusion that a certain psychologist 
in discussing animal consciousness and its sleeping states, 
speaks of "the self-consciousness of the dove." Evidently 
the psychologist is under the impression that consciousness 
and self-consciousness are identical. But if, on the one 
hand, instead of mere consciousness, self-consciousness or 
consciousness of a personality is substituted, we meet, on 
the other hand, with an opposite fallacy due to the same 
confusion, namely, that whenever self-consciousness, or 
personality, is discussed, mere consciousness is substituted. 
The different types of consciousness are not recognized, 
and the whole field of psychological facts is, on account of 



THE MOMENT CONSCIOUSNESS 231 

it, in hopeless confusion. What would we say of the biolo- 
gist who, in describing organic life in general, would sub- 
stitute human life, and in describing the human organism, 
would give a description of ants and cockroaches? 

We must try to realize clearer the precise meaning of 
the ' ' moment consciousness, " as a clear comprehension of 
it is of the utmost importance to psychology in general and 
to psychopathology in particular. 

Psychic contents or states of consciousness are always 
found in connection with some individuality. That piece of 
bread lying yonder may awaken hundreds of mental states 
under different conditions and in various organizations. My 
friend sitting by my side sees it, so do I, and so does the 
child, so does the bird in the cage, so does the dog, and so 
possibly does the fly flitting around the table. The states 
awakened are no doubt different, but they are of a psychic 
character none the less. My friend and I may be conscious 
of the personal element along with it. We may think it in 
the form of ownership ; "it is we who think, we who have 
the thought of the bread ' ' ; but this is only one of the many 
forms under which the perception or thought of the bread 
may appear. One thing, however, is essential to all the 
various states, different as they may be in their content, 
and that is the fact that they belong to some one individu- 
ality which under certain special conditions may also be of 
the nature of a personality. The individuality may be of 
a high or of a very low type, it may be that of a man or it 
may be that of a fly, but it must be some one consciousness 
that synthetizes the psychic state. It is this one synthetiz- 
ing consciousness that constitutes the essence of what we 
term "moment consciousness." 

The moment consciousness is the subject, the psychobio- 
logical individuality, requisite in all psychic activity. The 
psychic individuality cannot be regarded as a series of 
independent physical events. For it may be asked, for 
whom does that series exist and to whom is it presented? 



232 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

A synthetizing moment consciousness, both subject and 
content, is a fundamental assumption of psychology, just 
as space is that of geometry, and matter and force that 
of physics and chemistry. This necessity of assuming 
a synthetizing moment consciousness becomes clearly mani- 
fested in the highest form of psychic activity, such as 
self-consciousness. For if self-consciousness be reduced 
to a series, it may be pertinently asked with John Stuart 
Mill, "How can a series be aware of itself as a series?" 

Now a moment consciousness must not be considered as 
something apart from its content; it does not exist by it- 
self; it exists wherever and whenever psychic states are 
synthetized; it is the synthetized psychic material; mere 
synthesis without material is meaningless. On the whole, 
we may say that the moment consciousness is like an organ- 
ism, it forms a whole of many constituent parts. 

In the moment consciousness we find psychic material 
synthetized round one inmost central event which in its 
turn may have a central point. It reminds one strongly of 
the cell: although it branches out in all directions, it has 
always its inmost central point, its nucleus, nucleolus and 
nucleolinus. While I am sitting here writing, I take in the 
many impressions coming to me : the sunshine pouring 
through the window, the table, the ticking of the clock, the 
chair, the bookcase, and many other things in the room ; all 
of them are formed and synthetized into one, and as such 
they form a moment consciousness. They are not, however, 
indifferently grouped; their unity is an organized whole 
with a centre, with a vital point, so to say. At the heart of 
that synthetized whole there is a central point, the grouping 
around which constitutes the individuality of the partic- 
ular moment consciousness. In my own case, the central 
interesting point is the paper on which I write the sentence 
just formulated, and the inmost point, the principal idea 
under discussion which forms the nucleolinus, so to say, 
of the whole moment consciousness. The most interesting or 



THE MOMENT CONSCIOUSNESS 233 

the most important experience forms the centre of the 
moment. 

The same object which seemingly gives the same experi- 
ence assumes different meanings and is therefore really 
quite a different experience, according to the moment con- 
sciousness in which the perception or knowledge of that ob- 
ject is synthetized. These presently experienced states, 
synthetized within the moment, form the matter, or what we 
may term the content of the moment consciousness. The 
moment of consciousness will change with the changes of the 
synthetized content. As an official, I am now in my office 
doing my work, and the different experiences form one 
whole, an association of experiences, systematized and syn- 
thetized into an organic unity. As a family man, I am at 
home enjoying the company of wife, children and friends, 
and once more the experiences are organized into the unity 
of a moment consciousness. Now I am climbing mountains 
and stand on the slippery edge of a precipice, now I enjoy 
a conversation with the maiden I love, now I take part in 
the excitement of the political arena, now I sit on the bench 
of the jury listening gravely to the cross-examination of 
witnesses in a murder case; all these form nuclei for the 
formation of different moments consciousness. All of these 
depend on the different central experiences that form the 
kernel for the moment consciousness. The central experi- 
ence, round which all other experiences are grouped and 
synthetized, forms, so to say, the very essence of the given 
moment consciousness, and as long as this central experi- 
ence remains unchanged in its central position, the new ex- 
periences are assimilated within the same moment con- 
sciousness. The moment consciousness, therefore, does not 
vary with the change of the content, if only the assimilat- 
ing nucleus remains invariable. Should, however, the con- 
tent vary so that the central experience is transposed and 
some other one occupies its place, then the moment con- 
sciousness itself is changed. In fact, we may have the con- 



234 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tent of the moment consciousness entirely unchanged ; but if 
the central experience alone is displaced from its position, 
then the moment consciousness itself becomes changed in 
its nature. Thus, if as a traveller I climb the mountains 
chiefly for the sake of pleasure, and keep the scientific and 
aesthetic aspects in the background, the moment conscious- 
ness will be entirely different from the one where the sci- 
entific or aesthetic aspects are in the foreground, and all 
other considerations in the background. The moment con- 
sciousness, we may say, is entirely determined by the lead- 
ing central experience. 

The content of the moment consciousness, however, is 
not confined to the presently experienced psychic states 
only ; it also embraces the past, it includes memory, that is, 
it synthetizes also outlived moments. In my present 
capacity of physician and working in the office, I may also 
include the experiences as traveller, as juror, as teacher, 
as companion and as lover, but still the tone of this 
particular moment consciousness is given by the official 
duties of my present occupation. The most vivid, interest- 
ing and leading experiences form in this synthesis the 
nucleus round which all other experiences are crystallized 
and synthetized into one organic whole. We have here a 
series of moments, all of them being co-ordinated and con- 
tained in one synthesis of one moment consciousness. The 
members of this synthetized series are not of equal value 
nor are they qualitatively the same. The leading experi- 
ence that constitutes the assimilating element of the given 
moment has reality, interest and value, while others are 
only so much food, support for the principal central expe- 
rience. This central experience differs also from the other 
experiences synthetized in the moment consciousness by the 
fact that it alone, that is, the nucleus only, has the most 
vivid psychic states, sensational and perceptional elements, 
while the others may totally lack them. Other subsidiary 
synthetized moments are rather of an ideational character; 



THE MOMENT CONSCIOUSNESS 235 

they are what is called "reproductions," ideal representa- 
tives of formerly experienced outlived moments. 

The moment consciousness may contain moments that 
happened to emerge by the dynamic processes of asso- 
ciation, such as contiguity, similarity or contrast. Each 
moment consciousness may become content for the next. 
Each successive moment consciousness may synthetize the 
preceding ones, contain them in an abridged ideational 
form and may moreover recognize and claim them as be- 
longing to itself, and as being one with them. There may, 
in short, be various forms of mental unification, but one 
thing stands out clear and that is the nature of the moment 
consciousness. The essence of the moment consciousness is 
mental synthesis. 

If we take a cross-section of the moment consciousness 
and try to fixate it with our mental eye, we find a central 
psychic element round which other psychic elements are 
crystallized. This central psychic element is prominent, 
vivid, it forms, so to say, the vital point of all the states, and 
gives the tone to the rest, forming a whole, one organized 
experience. The psychic matter that surrounds the lumi- 
nous central point does not stand in a free, more or less dis- 
connected relation to the latter; it is intimately related to 
the centre, and cannot be separated without destroying the 
moment as a whole and even the life existence of each par- 
ticular constituent. The whole moment seems to form an 
organic network in which the other elements take their 
place, according to a plan. The structure of the moment 
may in this respect be compared to that of the cell. In the 
cell we discriminate the nucleus round which the proto- 
plasm is grouped. The protoplasm is connected with the 
nucleus by a network, a cyto-reticulum. The destruction of 
the nucleus affects the protoplasm and the destruction of 
the protoplasm affects the nucleus. The two are intimately, 
organically interrelated by the common network, the gen- 
eral plan of their organization. 



236 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

A concrete example will perhaps best answer our purpose. 
Suppose the moment is perceptual and consists only of one 
percept. Now in the percept we find a central sensory ele- 
ment surrounded by other elements. This central element 
stands out prominently in the given psychic state, while the 
other elements are subordinate. Not that those elements 
are unimportant for the precept ; on the contrary, they are 
of the highest consequence ; they only lie outside the focus 
of the total psychic state. Along with the focus these 
elements form one organized whole. The intensity of the 
psychic state proceeds from the periphery to the centre. 
The elements can as little be separated from the central 
element as the area of the circle from its centre. By re- 
moving the centre the circle will be destroyed and the cen- 
tre will cease to be what it is. All the elements of the per- 
cept form one vital texture having the central sensory 
element as its nucleus. 

Integrated as all those elements are, they are not, how- 
ever, of equal value and importance for the life existence 
of the whole. The central sensory element is of the utmost 
consequence; it is the vital point of the whole experience. 
While the change or destruction of one or of some of the 
subordinate elements may still leave the total percept un- 
changed, or but slightly modified, a change of the central 
sensory element, of the nucleus, will profoundly modify 
all the other elements and their interrelation ; a destruction 
of the nucleus will destroy the percept, the total moment. 



CHAPTER II 



MENTAL ORGANIZATION 



Moments of the same type form aggregations in an as- 
cending series of complexity, groups, systems, communities, 
clusters and constellations. Isolated moments are organized 
into groups, groups into systems, systems into communities 
and communities into constellations. Groups are the most 
simple, while constellations are the highest and most com- 
plex of the aggregates. The firmness, the stability of organi- 
zation, stands in direct relation to the complexity ; the more 
complex an aggregation the less stable it is. The order of 
complexity also represents the order of development, so that 
the more complex is also the latest to appear in the course 
of evolution. Evolution and stability stand thus in inverse 
relation. What appears early in the course of development 
is more firmly urganized than what appears later on. The 
whole tendency of evolution is from stability to instability. 
The order of growth and instability is in the ascending scale 
— from groups, through systems, communities, to clusters 
and constellations. The simpler sensori-motor reactions are 
both ontogenetically and phylogenetically first to appear in 
the course of evolution and they are also more stable than the 
more complex sensori-motor reactions. We can possibly best 
realize the relation of instability to complexity of structure 
if we regard life, including both physiological and psychic 
processes, as an ascending organization of sensori-motor re- 
actions to the influences of external environment. 

The sensori-motor reactions represent a hierarchy of 
organized aggregations, beginning in the lowest reflexes 

237 



238 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

and organic automatisms and culminating in the highest 
activity. 

As illustrations of the lower processes we may take the 
knee-jerk, the action of the bladder, peristaltic movement 
of the intestines, respiratory movements, heart-beats and 
other organic activities. Associations among these various 
processes form higher aggregates. The complex co-ordina- 
tion of orientation and space adjustments, such as the main- 
tenance of equilibrium, walking, running, jumping, flying, 
swimming, and so on, represent more complex activities. A 
still higher aggregate is to be found in the association of 
groups and systems of sensori-motor reactions of a sense- 
organ with the complex co-ordination of motor adjustments 
of the whole body. The highest aggregates are to be found 
in the association of all the motor reactions organized within 
the different spheres of sense-organs with the complex motor 
co-ordinations of body adjustments. Simple sensori-motor 
reflexes, complex reflexes, sensori-motor co-ordinations, in- 
stinctive adaptations and intelligent adjustments, statically 
regarded, correspond to the classification of psychomotor 
aggregates into groups, systems, communities, clusters and 
constellations. In other words, the analysis of the sensori- 
motor constitution of the higher organized beings in their 
adult stages, reveals the presence and interrelation of those 
various sensori-motor aggregates. 

Genetically regarded, we find that the history of the 
use and growth of the aggregates is in the order of their 
complexity. In ontogenesis we find that the simple reflexes 
appear first, then the more complex sensori-motor co-ordina- 
tions; later on the so-called instinctive adaptations begin 
to appear, while the intelligent and controlling adapta- 
tions are the latest to appear. The child at its birth is 
a purely reflex being; the different reflexes are not even 
associated, it is the medulla and the spinal cord that are 
pincipally active; the pupils react to light, the legs and 
hands react to more or less intense sensory stimuli, such 



MENTAL ORGANIZATION 239 

as tickling, and sensori-motor reflexes to taste stimuli 
are present. All of these reactions are isolated ; they are so 
many simple groups of sensori-motor reflexes ; even the suck- 
ing activity of the infant is largely of the reflex type; in 
short, the child at its birth is a spinal being, and its moment 
consciousness is desultory, consisting of the desultory ac- 
tivities of isolated functioning sensori-motor groups. Later 
on, the reflex activities become associated through the devel- 
opment of sight and kinesthetic sensations. The eyes can 
follow an object, the hands become adapted to the seizing 
movements. Movements of body-co-ordination then begin 
to appear, such as turning the body to right or left, then sit- 
ting up, then creeping, standing, walking, talking, all in- 
volving greater and greater co-ordination of muscles and 
kinesthetic sensations, aided by the association of sensations 
and sensori-motor reactions from different sense-organs. It 
is only very late in its history of development that the child 
begins to gain full control of its actions and adjustments to 
the stimuli coming from the external environment. 

The history of phylogenesis runs a parallel course. The 
lower organisms are purely reflex in their sensori-motor re- 
actions, and as such they belong to the type of the desultory 
moment consciousness. Instances may be found in the lower 
forms of the Mollusca. In the higher forms of Mollusca 
associations of sensori-motor reflexes begin to appear. 
These associations become more and more complex with the 
rise and growth of differentiation of sense-organs in the 
higher forms of Mollusca and the lower Arthropodes, giv- 
ing rise to groups, systems, communities, reaching the 
cluster stage in the higher Arthropodes and the lower 
Mammalia, finally culminating in the high complex func- 
tions characteristic of the constellation stage, such as found 
in the sensori-motor reactions of man in his adaptations 
to physical and social surroundings. 



CHAPTER III 

THE CONSCIOUS AND THE SUBCONSCIOUS 

If we turn now to the constitution of the moment con- 
sciousness, we find that each moment as it takes its place in 
the scale of evolution can both statically and ontogenetically 
be regarded as a summary, as an epitome of phylogenetic 
history. Each moment represents at the same time a hier- 
archy of many moments, but of lower types. The highest 
constellation has at its command lower types of psychic 
aggregates, and had it not been for these lower moments, 
the higher type would have lacked matter and activity for 
carrying on its own work. 

The lower forms of moments, however, are subordinate 
to the higher type which constitutes the centre, the nucleus 
of the total psychic state. The other constituent moments, 
from the simplest to the most complex, are in the service of 
the highest type of moment and lie outside the central focus 
of the principal controlling moment consciousness. These 
lower forms are, however, by no means to be ignored, since 
they form the main sum of factors that determine indirectly 
the total psychic activity, they constitute the storehouse 
from which the central moment draws its material. Without 
the lower moments the principal controlling moment could 
not have received stimulations from the external environ- 
ment, nor would it have been enabled to make proper motor 
responses. In fact, we may say that without the lower 
forms of moments, the moment nucleus would have lost its 
vitality and even its meaning. The perception of an object 
240 



/ 



CONSCIOUS AND SUBCONSCIOUS 241 

and the proper adjustments to it depend not so much on 
what is directly present in the focus of consciousness, but 
on the wealth of accumulated material lying outside the 
focus. In reading a book, for instance, the handling of it, 
the motor adjustments in keeping it, the perception of the 
letters, of the words, of the phrases, lie outside the focus of 
the principal interesting thought that guides the growth of 
the moment; and still it is this mass of perceptions that 
forms the matter, the food supply of the controlling mo- 
ment. The inventor, in working on his particular invention, 
has a mass of accumulated material and experience, indis- 
pensable for the development of the invention, but which 
is in the background of his consciousness. Similarly the 
mathematician in solving his problem, which forms the fo- 
cus of his consciousness, possesses a body of knowledge or a 
mass of material which, though it lies in the periphery of 
his consciousness, still forms the mainstay of his particular 
investigation. There is more in consciousness than is actu- 
ally directly present in the focus of the moment. 

While I am writing these last phrases, my consciousness 
is only occupied with them, but they are supported by a 
body of thought that lies in the background. All our per- 
ception is largely determined by the results of our previous 
experience which as such falls outside the central point of 
consciousness. Many of the perceptual illusions find their 
explanation in habit. An otherwise novel experience sur- 
rounds itself with familiar experiences, which disguises 
the novelty and transforms the percept by substituting 
what is otherwise habitual. This mass of familiar expe- 
riences is not present in the focus of the moment con- 
sciousness; it lies outside the centre and is very often 
submerged in regard to the direct introspective scrutiny; 
and yet it has a powerful influence on the total activity 
in general and on that of the nucleus in particular. 
The submerged moments, though lying outside of the 
main focus, still exercise a great influence on the course 
17 



242 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

of the moment's growth and development. The con- 
scious controls the material supplied by the subconscious, 
while the subconscious by its nature, by the quantity and 
quality of its material, in its turn, modifies and determines 
the course and direction of conscious activity. 



CHAPTER IV 



AUTOMATISM 



Different as the active nucleus and the relatively pas- 
sive protoplasmic mass are, no hard and fast line can be 
drawn between the two; they are constantly in the most 
intimate intercommunication, one passes into the other. 
With the formation of a new centre of activity, the old 
nucleus may pass into the general protoplasmic mass of the 
lower moments. This passing of the nucleus into the gen- 
eral protoplasm of the moment is a process that is con- 
stantly going on in the life history of the total moment 
consciousness. 

As a new nucleus is taking the place of the old one, the 
latter retreats in the background and exercises its influence 
on the course of the psychic activity from behind the scenes, 
so to say. The potency of this influence is in proportion to 
the duration and intensity of the activity manifested by the 
old nucleus. We are all well acquainted with the common- 
place fact that an action requiring at first great stress of 
attention, finally, with its repetition, drops out of the focus 
of consciousness and becomes, as it is called, automatic. 
They who have observed a child striving to stand by him- 
self or beginning to walk realize how such seemingly au- 
tomatic acts as standing or walking are at first accompanied 
with intense attention. The child, when standing up all by 
himself, does it hesitatingly; he shakes and trembles, as if 
occupying unsafe ground, or doing a difficult act ; he looks 
around for support, stretches out his hands, asking the 
help of his parents or nurse, and if he does not get aid in 
time, begins to cry from sheer fear and drops on all-fours. 

243 



244 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

During the whole process of standing, simple as it appears 
to us, and lying as it does with us outside of the field of at- 
tention, the baby's mind is fully engrossed with the act of 
maintaining his equilibrium. It is a difficult feat for him. 
Withdraw his attention from his performance, and in the 
first stages of his series of trials he simply drops helplessly 
to the ground. 

The same holds true in the case of walking. The 
child in beginning to walk, does it with great hesitation 
and fear. It can only be compared to the attempt of an 
adult in walking on a narrow board over a precipice or 
learning to walk on a rope. Each step as it is made re- 
quires full attention, each advance is a victory. The least 
distraction of attention and the baby falls down in a heap. 
The least change in the touch, muscular and kinesthetic 
sensations coming from leg and foot will interfere with the 
successful attempt at standing or walking. Thus in the 
baby under my observation, after the first two days of more 
or less successful trials at walking, a new pair of shoes were 
put on him. The new peripheral stimuli and the strange 
sensations experienced at once told on the successful issue 
of his walking activity. The number of failures became so 
great that they finally arrested further attempts at walking. 
Only when the baby became accustomed to the new shoes 
and the sensations they gave rise to became so habitual that 
they fell in the background of his consciousness and no 
longer distracted his attention, it was only then, that the 
baby once more started a series of trials, and with such 
success that after two days' practice he walked almost a 
whole mile. After a period of long practice the complex 
muscular adjustments, required in the acts of standing and 
walking, gradually retreat to the background of conscious- 
ness and become automatic. Not that consciousness in those 
acts is lost; it has simply reached its necessary minimum, 
leaving the focus of consciousness free for other new and 
unaccustomed adjustments, which in their turn fall out of 



AUTOMATISM 245 

the centre into the periphery, giving place to new experi- 
ences. To minimize the expenditure of neuron energy and 
reach the minimum of consciousness constitutes the tendency 
of psychomotor life. 

We can fully realize the importance of this tendency, 
if we regard it from a teleological point of view. In the 
struggle for existence or in the economical system of com- 
petition of modern life, the saving of unnecessary expendi- 
ture, where only possible, is of the highest consequence. 
Those organisms that will best effect such an economy of 
energy will be the fittest to survive. Those organisms that 
are enabled to reduce to its minimum the friction and loss 
of neuron energy have the great advantage of possessing at 
their disposal a greater amount of energy to cope with new 
circumstances, with novel conditions and react better and in 
a more favorable way, when confronted with changes in this 
environment. This economizing becomes absolutely indis- 
pensable to the life-existence of higher organisms, the en- 
vironment of which is always highly complex. The reduc- 
tion of psychomotor activity to the least amount of psycho- 
physiological energy expenditure, in other words, to the 
minimum of consciousness, is the law of psychomotor life in 
general and of the highest representation of that life in 
particular. 



CHAPTER V 



THE PSYCHIC MINIMUM 



This economizing is by no means an endless process; 
there is a certain minimum of consciousness beyond which 
the psychic states cannot pass. This minimum of conscious- 
ness once reached, must remain stationary, for a fall below 
it is the arrest of the activity of that aggregate. In other 
words, there is a certain minimum below which consciousness 
cannot be reduced with impunity. Reduce the conscious- 
ness of the total psychic state by lowering the sensibility 
of its constituents or by raising the threshold of con- 
sciousness and the whole aggregate will cease to function. 
Diminution of the stimulus to which the aggregate has 
adapted itself in the course of its growth, both phylogenetic 
and ontogenetic, gives the same results ; the aggregate does 
not respond. Either a summation of successive small stimuli 
or an intense stimulus that should reach the threshold is 
requisite to set the aggregate into activity. In short, a mini- 
mum of consciousness is always required for the proper 
functioning of mental aggregates. 

This condition of minimum of consciousness requisite 
for the proper function of lower mental aggregates is clearly 
seen in different forms of pathological cases. 

In the initial stages of tabes, when the kinesthetic sen- 
sations of the feet and legs become hypoaesthetic, the patient 
is unable to walk well and must be guided by visual sensa- 
tions, so that when his eyes are closed, he stumbles. Al- 
though he may feel that his limbs were moved, if the passive 
movement is quick and through a considerable angle, so 
that the stimulus is intense, he still does not know the direc- 
246 



THE PSYCHIC MINIMUM 247 

tion of the movement, nor is he aware of the position of the 
limb when left to itself. Similarly in cases of onset or slowly 
recovering hemiplegia, the sensibility falling below the 
requisite minimum produces a total failure in the sensori- 
motor adjustments; the patient has to learn to make his 
adjustments by means of content coming from the visual 
sense. 

As a good illustration of the point in question, I may 
mention a very interesting case of my own now under in- 
vestigation. The patient suffers from tactile anaesthesia all 
over the trunk, with the exception of neck and face and 
lower extremities; the other sensations, such as those of 
temperature, pain, pressure, muscular sense and kinaesthe- 
sis, are greatly diminished. The patient does not feel one 
short, sudden stimulus, such as a prick, pinch, burn, but 
only a long continuous stimulus, or a quick succession of 
more or less intense stimuli. The patient is unable to adapt 
herself to the changes of external environment and often 
hurts herself, before she becomes aware of danger and is 
enabled to react and ward off the harmful stimulus. The 
aggregates with a reduced minimum of consciousness fail in 
their function and are unable to adjust themselves to the 
external environment. 

This failure to function in case of fall below the stand- 
ard minimum is still further illustrated in the diminution 
of the patient's muscular sensibility. If she is told to close 
her eyes, and her arm is taken roughly and given a quick 
and sharp wrench, she is aware of the movement and also 
of its direction. If, however, the same passive movement 
is produced slowly, gently, by degrees, then the patient 
is unaware both of the movement and direction; even 
if the hand has been rotated in a circle, or raised in a 
horizontal position from a position of repose close to the 
body, the patient thinks that the hand has not moved and is 
still in the same place. If now the patient is told to touch 
a part of her body, such, for instance, as the nose, eye, or 



248 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

ear, the attempt is often a failure, on account of the un- 
necessary extra amount of energy put forth in the muscular 
effort of bringing the hand in the required position. This 
extra amount of effort put forth is determined by the ex- 
tent of hypoaesthesia and the false notion of the position 
of the arm. 

If the experiment is somewhat modified and the arm is 
raised a little faster, so that the patient becomes aware of 
the changed position, of the movement, but not of the direc- 
tion, the results are no less interesting. If under such con- 
ditions the patient is asked to put the hand to the nose, eye, 
or ear, the answer is uniformly the same: "I cannot; I 
do not know where the hand is." Once more the sensori- 
motor aggregate, with its lowered minimum of conscious- 
ness, fails to act and carry out its adjustments to its 
surroundings. 

A variation of the experiments leads again to the same 
conclusion. If the patient, with the hand at rest, is told 
to raise it, and when she starts the movement the hand is 
seized and kept forcibly, the patient, after making strained 
efforts finally declares that the hand is raised; the sensori- 
motor aggregate fails to act and make the proper adap- 
tations. 

A further variation of the experiment reveals still 
clearer the paralysis of an aggregate with a lowered 
psychic minimum. If the arm is half raised and the pa- 
tient, with the eyes closed, is told to raise it still higher, 
and as soon as the patient starts the movement the hand 
is seized and moved in a different direction, after some 
time she declares that the hand is raised, although the 
hand is in a much lower position than the original one. 
Once more we find that a lowering of the minimum of con- 
sciousness of a psychic aggregate brings about a complete 
failure of adjustment and is equivalent to a paralysis of 
its function. A definite minimum of consciousness is the 
sine qua non of psychic aggregates. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE FADING MOMENTS 

The hierarchy of moments, from the lowest to the high- 
est, belonging to one organized constellation of moments, 
may be arranged in a series as to intensity and vividness of 
consciousness ranging from minimum to maximum through 
all degrees of intensity and vividness. The maximum of 
intensity is in the focus, in the nucleus of the moment, 
the minimum is at the periphery. Now a moment through 
frequent functioning gradually loses intensity and vivid- 
ness and passes by degrees through all the intermediary 
stages from maximum to minimum. The fading moment 
passes by degrees from the centre to the periphery of con- 
sciousness. Under other conditions, such as the hypnotic 
trance, the moment may become suddenly submerged. 

As a case in point I bring the following experiment, 
made by me in the presence of Dr. Van Gieson, former 
Director of the Pathological Institute of the New York 
State Hospitals: 

I hypnotized Mr. V. F., and suggested to him that on 
awakening he should not recognize any of the people pres- 
ent, and that two or three minutes later he should throw out 
of the chair the gentleman whom he found sitting near 
by. That gentleman was Dr. Van Gieson, for whom the 
subject had the highest respect, and whom he would not 
have touched in his normal waking state. 

Before arousing the subject from the trance I took 
good care to dissociate the memories by suggesting amnesia. 

249 



250 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

The subject was then awakened. He looked round in a 
dazed way, as one who found himself in the company of 
utter strangers. He did not recognize any of his acquaint- 
ances, nor did he manifest the least sign of recognition of 
a near friend of his who was present at the experiments. 

About two minutes after awakening he suddenly turned 
to Dr. Van Gieson, who was at that time sitting reading, 
and exclaimed gruffly: "I want that seat." Without wait- 
ing for a reply, V. F. made a sudden onset, vehemently 
attacked the struggling doctor, seized him by the shoul- 
ders, pulled him out of the chair, and gave him a violent 
push. All this transpired in the twinkling of an eye, so 
that Dr. Van Gieson had no time to collect himself and 
show resistance. 

When Dr. Van Gieson asked V. F. why the latter 
offended him without provocation, the subject answered, 
"because he wanted the seat." When Dr. Van Gieson 
pressed him further to give his reasons why he did not ask 
for the seat in a polite way, and, besides, what right he 
had to throw a strange gentleman out of a seat while there 
were so many others which he could occupy as comfort- 
ably, the subject's argument was that in this world the 
mere desire of having a thing is a sufficient reason and a 
good right. When it was still insisted on his giving a 
better reason than that, the subject became angry and 
snappishly replied he wished Dr. Van Gieson would "shut 
up," and said he was sorry he had not made him shut up 
before, as the gentleman seemed to be very loquacious. 

A quarter of an hour later the subject was brought 
into a passive state. Amnesia of the incident was enforced, 
and the subject was then awakened. Mr. V. F. woke up 
oblivious of the whole affair. Only when I inquired of 
him, he told me he had a vague dream that he quarrelled 
with someone, but he did not know the person, nor did he 
remember the circumstances. The subject regarded it as a 
mere idle dream, and gave no further attention to it. Mr. 



THE FADING MOMENTS 251 

V. F. is until now in complete ignorance of the whole affair. 
The whole incident faded from his conscious memory. 

If, however, the intensity and vividness of conscious- 
ness decrease from the centre to the periphery, the extent 
of content increases. The further away from the centre 
the greater is the number of the fading moments. At the 
periphery the number of moments is also the greatest. The 
immense number of outlived moments gradually fades away 
with the lapse of time and tends to pass to the periphery of 
consciousness. It is clear, then, that as we pass from the 
centre to the periphery the number of outlived moments in- 
creases proportionately. The deeper the regions of the sub- 
conscious the wider the extent of its contents. In hypnosis 
the intensity of consciousness becomes diffused over lower 
and lower moments, liberating their pent-up energy, and as 
with the depth of hypnosis the obscure regions of the sub- 
conscious come to light, their immense extent stands re- 
vealed before the astonished and bewildered eye of the 
observing self-consciousness. 

A lighting up of the subconscious regions can also be 
brought about by the use of toxic drugs. The pent-up 
neuron energy becomes liberated from lower and lower- 
most moment, consciousness becomes concomitantly mani- 
fested and long forgotten experiences well up to the centre 
of consciousness ; outlived moments become resurrected and 
rise to the surface of full consciousness with all the vivid- 
ness of a present reality. Thus De Quincey, in his "Con- 
fessions of an English Opium-Eater, " tells us that "the 
minutest incidents of childhood or forgotten scenes of later 
years were often revived. I could not be said to recollect 
them, for if I had been told of them when waking, I should 
not have been able to acknowledge them as my past experi- 
ence. But placed as they were before me in dreams like 
intuitions and clothed in all their evanescent circum- 
stances, and accompanying feelings, I recognized them 
instantaneously. ' ' 



252 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Hypnoidie states such as described by me in previous 
works 1 also reveal the wealth and extent of psychic con- 
tent present in the lower subconscious regions. Glimpses 
into the subconscious are also given in hypnoidal states 
which are induced by the process of hypnoidization. The 
patient is asked to close his eyes and keep as quiet as pos- 
sible without, however, making any special effort to put 
himself into such a state. He is then asked to tell any- 
thing that comes into his mind. The patient may also be 
asked to attend to some stimuli, such as reading or writ- 
ing or the buzzing of an electrical current, and he is then 
to tell the ideas, thoughts, images, phrases, no matter how 
disconnected, that happen to flitter through his mind. 
This same condition of hypnoidization is sometimes better 
accomplished through mental strain. The patient is put 
into a quiet condition, and with his eyes closed and the 
experimenter's hand on the patient's forehead, the latter is 
urged to mental effort and strain, and, if necessary, given 
some hints. Experiences seemingly inaccessible flash light- 
ning-like on the upper regions of self-consciousness, reveal- 
ing the depths below. 

1 See Sidis, Psychology of Suggestion and Psychopathological Re- 
searches. 



CHAPTER VII 



THE BRIGHTENED MOMENTS 



We have until now mainly viewed psychic or moment 
content as passing from the centre to the periphery of con- 
sciousness through varying degrees of intensity, from max- 
imum to minimum, the movement being from the conscious 
to the subconscious. There is no need, however, that this 
should always be the case. Experiences may first be per- 
ceived by the subconscious regions and then only trans- 
mitted to the conscious regions, the movement thus occur- 
ring in the opposite direction, from the subconscious to the 
conscious. Experiences, for instance, lived through in 
dreams, which belong to the subconscious states, may come 
to the surface as hypnoidal states and then become syn- 
thetized in the upper waking consciousness, or they may be 
lighted up in hypnosis and then permanently synthetized in 
the centre of consciousness. 

The following case, which I quote from my notes, may 
serve as an illustration: 

The patient suffers from headaches, which are some- 
times very severe ; feels pain on concentration of the mind. 
She often reads a page over and over again and is entirely 
unable to make out the meaning. She feels completely 
paralyzed in her will, and whatever she does is more of a 
mechanical affair to her. She has not the slightest interest 
in anything. When young, patient was very musical, but 
since her twenty- fourth year she lost her musical talent — 
at least, she feels she has not the power she possessed once. 
Her memory is growing worse since then, until she is now 
unable to remember anything. She can now read and play, 

253 



254 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

but it is mechanical, without the power and feeling she 
possessed once. Her headaches are severe, dull, but rather 
irregular as to their onset. Patient is very restless in her 
sleep, moans, wakes up as if in a great fright, but does 
not remember the dreams. Sometimes she moans and cries 
in her sleep and has to be awakened by her husband. Occa- 
sionally she has periods of insomnia. She is a very active 
dreamer; the dream-life has become predominant and has 
absorbed and sucked down, so to say, the content of her 
waking consciousness. 

She went into a deep hypnotic state, and gradually 
the dream of the night before unfolded itself before the 
patient as if she were living the same experiences over 
again. "I see a very high tower — I am there — something 
I don't like — the window — I feel — " Patient became 
very agitated. She was quieted, and she went on: "I 
am in space — I am falling — I don't know where I am — 
I can't get down — I don't know what keeps me there." 
Patient became greatly agitated, greatly frightened, as 
one actually falling and becoming suspended in the air; 
she sighed and breathed hard. "I want to get down. I 
am hanging in the air," she cried out in despair and 
fright. Patient, in great excitement and with her eyes 
closed, suddenly jumped from the couch. (Pulse about 
90.) After a few moments, patient says: "Now I am 
down — I am on the ground. I hurt myself and got a head- 
ache." The whole experience was of a very highly devel- 
oped hallucinatory state, a hypnoidic state, which she was 
able to recollect on emerging from the hypnotic state. 

Similarly experiences first lived through in the sub- 
conscious states induced by alcoholic intoxication may be 
brought by hypnoidal states or by hypnosis into the focus 
of consciousness. Hypnoidal states are specially impor- 
tant; they are uprushes of the subconscious, and by means 
of them many a hidden and obscure region of the subcon- 
scious may be laid bare. Thus the Hanna case was largely 



THE BRIGHTENED MOMENTS 255 

marked by hypnoidal states. In another case of mine, 
characterized by subconscious lapses, furious maniacal out- 
breaks preceded by an aura, followed by long sleep of fif- 
teen hours ' duration, and by complete amnesia of what had 
occurred during the lapses, the hypnoidal states were the 
only means by which the experiences, passed through during 
the subconscious lapses, became completely revealed. Sim- 
ilarly in another case of amnesia, the hypnoidal states have 
given glimpses into subconscious regions which even deep 
hypnosis could not reveal. There is no need of devoting 
space to the cases here, as our purpose is only to show that 
the movement of moments may originally occur in the 
reverse direction from the peripheral subconscious regions 
to the centre of consciousness, and also to indicate the fact 
of the great value of hypnoidal states in bringing about 
such a reversion of movements. 

The method of guesses is also valuable in the investiga- 
tion, showing the reverse process of mental activity, the 
passage of a state that has been subconsciously experienced 
into the focus of consciousness. If in a ease of psycho- 
pathic anaesthesia.; a form of anaesthesia where sensibility of 
the anaesthetic spot is really present in the subconscious in 
a hyperaesthetie form, if the anaesthetic spot is stimulated, 
the patient is not aware of it ; should he, however, be asked 
to guess, or to tell anything that happens to come into his 
mind, he is often found to give correct answers even in 
minor details. The patient perceives subconsciously, and 
this perception, often in a slightly modified form, is trans- 
mitted to the upper consciousness, or to what for the pres- 
ent constitutes the patient's principal moment conscious- 
ness or personality. If, for instance, the anaesthetic spot 
of the patient is pricked a number of times, the patient 
remains quiet and is seemingly insensible. Should we now 
ask the patient to tell anything that comes into his head, 
he will say "pricking," and will be unable to tell why he 
happened to think of "pricking" at all. Should we now 



256 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

ask him to give any number that may enter his mind, he 
will give the correct number, once more not being able to 
give the reason why this particular number happened to 
enter into his mind, considering it a mere "chance num- 
ber." The subconscious sensations experienced are trans- 
mitted as ideas to the focus of consciousness. Sometimes 
instead of the particular idea being transmitted, only the 
general aspect of it reaches the focus. Thus the patient 
may not be able to guess the particular nature of the stim- 
ulus, but may give the correct number of the unfelt stimuli, 
showing the reverse movement of the psychic state. 

This reverse movement of the psychic state, from the 
originally subconscious to the upper consciousness, is well 
manifested in a case under investigation. The patient's 
field of vision is- extremely limited. If objects are inserted 
in a zone extending from the periphery of the narrowed field 
to the utmost boundary of the normal field, and the patient 
is asked to tell anything that happens to enter the mind at 
that time, and to do it without any deliberation, the words, 
seemingly chance words to the patient, are almost uni- 
formly correct names of the inserted objects. On the 
periphery of that ' ' subconscious ' ' zone only general guesses 
are correct. Thus, if letters and numbers are inserted, the 
patient thinks of the particular letter or number, when ex- 
hibited within the "subconscious" zone. At the periphery 
of the zone, however, only the general character comes into 
the mind, namely, letters or numbers, but not the particu- 
lar character itself. Some of the phenomena of param- 
nesia can be explained by this principle of reverse move- 
ment, when subconscious experiences transmitted to central 
consciousness appear under the form of "familiar" mem- 
ories, such as was shown to be the case with the proof- 
reader described in another chapter. 



CHAPTER VIII 

TRANSMUTATION OF SUBCONSCIOUS MESSAGES 

The movement of the moment from the subconscious to 
the nucleus of self-consciousness may sometimes take a dif- 
ferent course. Instead of being centrally transmitted from 
the subconscious to the centre of the upper consciousness, 
the experience is projected into the external world in the 
form of a hallucination and then only perceived by the 
dominating moment consciousness. 

This process of reversion is met with in the phenomena 
of crystal gazing. In these phenomena experiences ac- 
quired subconsciously are projected into the crystal in the 
form of visual hallucinations. The crystal gazer sees in 
the crystal, images, pictures of events which he cannot 
remember directly, but which can be found in his subcon- 
scious. The changing light and shade due to reflection 
and refraction give rise to peripheral sensory processes 
which form the nucleus, the suggestion that awakens those 
subconscious psychic states. Experiences mainly of one 
sensory nature may be transformed into and assume the 
character of another sense; thus experiences, mainly of an 
auditory character, may be projected into the crystal as 
visual hallucinations. 

In the phenomena of shell hearing, we meet once more 
with a similar process of reversion. Psychic states origi- 
nally experienced by the subconscious are objectified in the 
shell as auditory hallucinations. The vague, indistinct 
buzzing coming from the shell affects the sense-organ and 
gives rise to a peripheral process that forms the nucleus 
round which the subconscious experiences become crystal- 
18 257 



258 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

lized and projected in the form of auditory hallucinations. 
Here, too, as in the case of crystal gazing, experiences of 
one sensory character may be transformed into that of 
another. Psychic states originally of a visual character 
become auditory on being projected by this reverse move- 
ment from the subconscious to the central consciousness. 

In automatic writing we meet once more with a similar 
process of reversion, only under a somewhat different 
form. The subconsciously acquired experiences, instead of 
being in a sensory form as hallucinations, are motor in 
character ; they are expressed as written words, and by this 
means the upper consciousness becomes for the first time 
acquainted with the experiences of the subconscious. This 
process of reversion by means of automatic writing may be 
cultivated and may become so persistent that the subcon- 
scious regions may keep up a correspondence with the 
upper consciousness and reveal its experiences by "mes- 
sages" apparently coming from another world. 

The phenomena of automatic speaking are rather rare, 
and are very much akin to those of automatic writing. The 
subconscious instead of projecting its experiences in the 
form of written words, does it by means of the spoken 
word. Here, too, as in the case of automatic writing, the 
process may become cultivated and the subconscious may 
carry on its intercommunications in a systematic form. 
The spoken messages, coming from the subconscious and 
revealing strange experiences first subconsciously acquired 
and then only made known in the way of the spoken word 
to the upper consciousness, appear inspired and awe-in- 
spiring. They are "voices from another world." 

The emergence of subconscious impressions, but in 
terms of another sense-organ, a condition somewhat sim- 
ilar to the phenomena of sensory automatism, such as those 
of crystal gazing and shell hearing, can also be effected by 
means of hypnosis. Anaesthesia to a definite class of im- 
pressions is produced in some parts of the body. These 



SUBCONSCIOUS MESSAGES 259 

impressions are then made to emerge as experiences com- 
ing from another sense-organ. The following experiments 
may be taken as typical of many others. A subject of 
mine suffering from alcoholic amnesia falls into a very deep 
state of hypnosis. When in this state his hand is made 
anaesthetic by post-hypnotic suggestions, it is then sug- 
gested to him that objects put into his anaesthetic hand 
will be seen by him on a screen. When he wakes up his 
hand is anaesthetic even to the most painful stimuli. The 
anaesthetic hand is then put behind a screen and another 
screen is kept in front of his eyes. When objects are put 
into the subject's anaesthetic hand, he has visual hallucina- 
tions of them. Thus, if half a dollar is put into his anaes- 
thetic hand, no matter how lightly, he sees it on the screen 
first as a circle on a flat surface, then the visual hallucina- 
tion is gathering more solidity and reality, more details are 
gradually emerging, and finally it begins to look like a 
solid half dollar. This rather bewilders the subject, as this 
coin is not like ordinary ones, for it does not feel like a 
solid object at all when the hand is passed over it, and he 
looks up in surprise, asking for the explanation of this 
curious phenomenon. The additional interest here is the 
extreme hyperaesthesia which the patient manifests in his 
apparently anaesthetic hand. No matter how small the ob- 
ject is and no matter how lightly it touches his hand, he 
still gives a minute description of it, when he draws with 
his free hand the outlines of the visual hallucination of the 
object as it appears to him on the screen before his eyes. 

Instead of a visual hallucination of the tactile impres- 
sions, the subject may be made to have auditory halluci- 
nations. When, on waking up, objects are put into the 
patient's anaesthetic hand, he begins to listen intently. He 
hears voices accusing him of keeping in his hand money 
or the particular object placed there by the experimenter. 
He calls the voices ' ' foolish and lying, " as he has no money 
about him, nor has he any other of the objects the voices 



260 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tell him of. Subconscious tactile impressions become here 
converted into auditory experiences. 

Similarly, in an extremely interesting case which is at 
present under my investigation, the sensibility of the whole 
right side of the body presents striking phenomena. The 
patient feels neither touches nor pricks on the right side; 
even pain is completely gone, but when he looks into a 
glass of water while the anaesthetic hand is hidden from 
his sight by a screen, he has visual hallucinations of the 
correct numbers of touches, or of pricks given to the anaes- 
thetic side, or of objects put into his anaesthetic hand; he 
has visual hallucinations of letters and words lightly writ- 
ten on the insensible hand. On the whole, he manifests 
extreme subconscious hyperaesthesia, but, strangely enough, 
in symbolic terms of another sense. 1 

1 This process of conversion is intimately related to secondary sensory 
elements which play such an important role in the structure of the percept 
in general, and in that of hallucination in particular. See my article on 
" Hallucination," in Psychological Review, for January and March, 1904. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE PROCESS OP MENTAL RESURRECTION 

The process of mental resurrection or of reverse pro- 
cession of psychic states, from the periphery of inattentive 
consciousness to the focus of consciousness, can, in fact, 
be fully substantiated by observations in spontaneous som- 
nambulism as well as by experiments in the hypnotic state. 
The following brief account of spontaneous somnambulism 
may serve as an illustration : 

"I am a medical student in the University of Pennsyl- 
vania and take some interest in hypnotism, suggestion, and 
other psychical phenomena. A few days ago I became the 
fortunate possessor of your book, 'Psychology of Sugges- 
tion,' and after reading a few scattered pages, the happy 
idea came to me of consulting you on a subject which has 
troubled me for some time. I shall be as brief as possible. 
I am twenty-two years old; I am a somnambulist. They 
say that when I was a child I used to talk a little during 
my sleep, but that is about all. In 1893 I lived with a 
friend in New York, who had some electric batteries. He 
wanted me to take a shock, but I was somewhat timid and 
refused. One day he told me that if I did not take the 
shock he would give me one during my sleep. That night, 
I had been sleeping about two or three hours, I felt the 
wires in my feet and hands, and began to scream and kick 
all around, and finally I was awakened by my friend; all 
had been a dream. From that night on I very often had 
dreams, but always disagreeable ones, that they were kill- 
ing me, or somebody was falling out of a window, etc. 
About eight months after that I went to New Orleans. It 
was winter and my room was very cold. I bought a stove, 

261 



262 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

and the first night I had it, after I went to bed, I noticed 
that it lighted the whole room, and the idea of a fire came 
to me; and after I had been sleeping about two hours, I 
began to dream that my whole room was on fire. I tried 
to get out through a window; I broke one of the shutters 
with my fist, but did not open it. Then I went for the 
door and went out into the hall, where I was met by sev- 
eral scared people. As soon as I saw them I said, 'Ex- 
cuse me,' and ran back to my bed. Next day, before I 
had seen anybody, I knew all that happened. Prom that 
day up to the present time I dream almost every night, 
and, I could almost say, all the dreams are on fires, deaths, 
etc. Soon after that I went to room with a brother. Once 
he had to stay away overnight, and the lady of the house 
said : ' To-night you must not have a nightmare, because 
your brother is not here to take care of you.' That night, 
as usual, I had dreams, and was just going to open a door 
when what the lady had told me came to my mind, and 
I said to myself, 'She told me not to do it,' and very 
quietly went back to bed. Next day they told me what 
they had heard me doing, which proved to me that what 
I remembered of my dream was right. As a rule, I always 
remember what I do and say, though I don't always wake 
up after the dreams." 

All the phenomena reviewed by us, the phenomena of 
psycopathic anaesthesia and those of sensory and motor 
automatisms, such as crystal gazing, shell hearing, auto- 
matic writing and automatic speaking, can be reproduced 
artificially by hypnosis in our laboratories, provided the 
subject falls into a deep trance and takes post-hypnotic 
suggestions of motor and sensory character. It is highly 
probable, and experiments seem strongly to confirm the 
same view, that the different form of spontaneous auto- 
matic manifestations are of the same nature as hypnotic 
states. The subject first lapses into a subconscious state, 
from which he emerges manifesting sensory or motor au- 



MENTAL RESURRECTION 263 

tomatism. The patient may fall into the subconscious state 
and pass through the whole of the experience while in that 
condition, and then on passing out of the state may remem- 
ber everything that has taken place, but not suspect hav- 
ing lapsed into the subconscious state. 

One of my cases, an active somnambulist, had similar 
experiences. "This morning," to quote from my notes, 
"I have been looking for a lost parcel. Suddenly I heard 
a voice telling me, 'You will find it on the shelf in there.' 
I was standing by a closet door, my eyes were open. I 
looked through the door and could see the thing clearly. 
I opened the door and took it. I was in a peculiar state 
before the voice spoke to me. My mind was a blank. I 
was as if unconscious of walking, as if doing things auto- 
matically." She had recently similar experiences. Thus, 
an instrument was displaced; a voice suddenly told her, 
"It is in the dark room," and there it was found. 

The patient may fall into the subconscious state only 
momentarily, and take the suggestion of manifesting the 
automatic phenomena on emerging from the subconscious 
condition into the normal waking state. It appears, then, 
that the general law for the reverse procession of psychic 
content from the deeper state of the subconscious is the 
one condition of the merging, momentarily, of the central 
consciousness into the subconscious and then the emer- 
gence of the subconscious into the focus of the upper con- 
sciousness. 



CHAPTER X 

THE REAWAKENING 

A moment in passing from the centre of consciousness 
to the lower regions of the subconscious is usually effecting 
its course gradually through all degrees of intensity, rang- 
ing from maximum to minimum. In learning to play a 
violin, for instance, the movements of adjustments are at 
first effected with much strain and intensity of attention, 
but a long course of exercise, practice and repetitions slowly 
reduce the strain and intensity of attention until the act 
of playing and the necessary motor adjustments require 
the minimum of consciousness and the minimal amount of 
strain ; in other words, the act becomes habitual, automatic. 
A habit is not formed suddenly. A series of repetitions 
are requisite, each repetition making the next one easier, 
thus reducing the strain and intensity of consciousness, 
until the minimum is reached. Of course, the minimum is 
relative for that particular moment consciousness. Some 
of them have a higher and some a lower minimum, although 
none of them may pass the absolute minimum. This large- 
ly depends on the complexity of the moment. The more 
complex the moment is, the higher the minimum, although 
they have all a tendency to reach ultimately the absolute 
limit. In other words, a more complex moment or aggre- 
gate of moments takes a larger time and a longer series of 
repetitions to reach the absolute minimum of consciousness. 
A simplification in the constitution of the moment makes 
the process of reduction more rapid, but the moment on its 
way to the minimum has nevertheless to pass through the 
different degrees of intensity. The passage through inter- 
264 



THE REAWAKENING 265 

mediate stages is a necessary condition of the reduction of 
a functioning moment to a minimum of consciousness. 

In the reverse process, however, in the process of a mo- 
ment 's rise from the subconscious to the conscious, inter- 
mediary stages are not always requisite. The moment, 
buried in the obscure regions of the subconscious, may be 
illuminated by the intense focal light of consciousness with- 
out passing through any intermediary stages. The direct 
or fading process is like the dying away of light; the 
reverse process is like the blazing up of a torch or like the 
explosion of gunpowder. That intermediary stages of con- 
sciousness are not requisite in the reverse process, that is, 
in the process of the moment 's rising from the subconscious 
to the conscious, we may clearly see from such a common- 
place example as the recalling of a once familiar name. 
We look and search for the name; we try all kinds of 
clews; we strain our attention in the search after the lost 
link, but of no avail. In fact, the more we try, the more 
we feel barred from the place where that lost link is to be 
found; we feel lost and wandering, and finally give up the 
whole affair in great despair and turn to something else. 
In the middle of our work, when we have fully forgotten 
all about the search, the name suddenly shoots up. No 
intermediary stage is passed, the whole state flares up at 
once. Solutions of difficult and complicated problems, 
discoveries and inventions, are known to occur in this 
way. Similarly in the phenomena of the various forms 
of sensory and motor automatisms, the sensory images or 
the motor reactions expressive of the rising psychic state 
gush up suddenly from the depth of the subconscious self. 

In hypnosis, again, ideas and sensori-motor reactions, 
induced by post-hypnotic suggestion, may flash suddenly 
upon the mind of the subject. While in trance, the sub- 
ject may be told a word, or a phrase, and suggested that 
he should be unable to remember it on awakening, but 
that when he will hear the word "now," coming from 



266 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

the experimenter, he should be able to remember. On 
emerging from the trance state, the subject cannot re- 
member that word or phrase, although it may just be, 
as some say, on the tip of his tongue; he may be in a 
condition similar to the one when searching after a familiar 
word, but which somehow constantly eludes his mental 
grasp. Generally, though, if the subject falls into deep 
hypnosis, his amnesia is complete and he cannot remember 
anything about the word, just as if it has been erased from 
his memory. No sooner, however, does the signal "now" 
reach him, than the forgotten word or phrase immediately 
and instantly flashes upon his mind. 

This sudden, "impulsive" rise of moments from the 
subconscious into the light of the central consciousness 
can be even more clearly seen, more concretely realized, 
so to say, in the post-hypnotic suggestion of the motor 
character. During hypnosis it is suggested to the sub- 
ject to do a certain act on perceiving a certain signal, 
but that he should not have the least memory of what 
he is going to do before the signal is given. On coming 
out from the hypnotic trance, if this be deep, he remem- 
bers nothing and may engage in something else; no sooner 
does he perceive the signal than he jumps up and carries 
out the suggested act with great impetuosity and lightning- 
like rapidity. The suggested psychomotor reaction, hidden 
subconsciously, appears in the light of consciousness as 
instantly as the discharge of the gun on the release of 
the trigger, or as the ring of the electric bell at the touch 
of the button. 

If we turn to psychopathological cases, we once more 
meet with evidence of the same truth, we find instances the 
very essence of which consists in the fact that intermediary 
stages of the moment's transition from the subconscious to 
the conscious are completely wanting. The sudden onset 
of uncontrollable impulses and imperative ideas are no- 
torious. Many an asylum can point to patients in its 



THE REAWAKENING 267 

wards, patients who have been quiet and listless for many 
months and even years, who rise suddenly, fell their 
attendant with one powerful blow and immediately after 
return to their previous listless state. The outburst is 
instantaneous. Suicidal and homicidal impulses, accom- 
panying various forms of mental alienation, may have a 
sudden onset and vanish as abruptly as they came. Im- 
perative ideas may also have the same flash-like appear- 
ance. The idea enters the mind suddenly, torments the 
patient by its insistency, and then somehow unaccountably 
vanishes. These impulses and ideas are like meteors, they 
appear lightning-like on the mind's horizon and then drop 
out of sight. Thus all the adduced facts now verge to one 
truth that reverse procession of a moment from the sub- 
conscious region to the light of the upper consciousness 
need not be through intermediary stages. 

It may also be pointed out that intermediary stages are 
also absent when the subconscious moment which has 
emerged into the focus of the upper consciousness falls back 
again into the region whence it has come. In fact, we may 
say that this fit-like process is often even more characteristic 
of the returning of the moment into the subconscious than 
of its coming. We all have experienced the fact how some 
ideas, whether familiar or not, often flash across the mind, 
and the next moment disappear as mysteriously and as 
tracelessly as they came; they drop into the subconscious 
before the upper consciousness can seize on them, fixate 
them and have them assimilated. Hypnoidal states are of 
such a nature; they are sudden upheavals from the depth 
of the subconscious, but often disappear from conscious- 
ness as suddenly as they appear. The same we find in the 
case of uncontrollable impulses; they invade consciousness 
and get possession of it like an attack and then drop out 
of sight, sometimes not even leaving a trace or a vague 
memory. 

In the states of hypnosis, such coming and going of sub- 



268 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

conscious moments can be investigated more closely. Dur- 
ing hypnosis, a story may be told to the subject and then 
a suggestion given that on awakening, when he perceives a 
signal, a sound, for instance, the story should occur to his 
mind, and that he should relate it, but that, immediately 
after, it should lapse from his consciousness. If the sub- 
ject takes post-hypnotic suggestions, and can be put into 
that stage of hypnosis where amnesia can be induced, then 
the rise and fall of the subconscious moments are almost 
instantaneous, demonstrating the truth that the subcon- 
scious moment does not necessarily require to pass transi- 
tional stages in consciousness, whether forward or back- 
ward, whether it rises from the subconscious to the focus 
of consciousness or leaves the focus to sink into the sub- 
conscious. 

This want of intermediary stages in the history of the 
rise and fall of the subconscious moment is not uniformly 
the case. The subconscious moment may rise slowly, pass 
through intermediary stages of intensity of consciousness, 
and then enter the focus and may again, in departing, 
fade away slowly, passing by degrees through all grades 
of intensity in its backward course. This is especially fre- 
quent in cases when the given moment rises spontaneously 
from a great depth of the subconscious. The moment 
seems to struggle on its way with many obstacles, hence 
its many failures to rise to full intensity. The same thing 
occurs in the different forms of sensory and motor automa- 
tism. The moment buried in the depths of the subconscious 
does not appear at once, fully developed, but struggles up 
as a series of failures, blunders and errors. This fading 
away of the moment into the subconscious and then the 
rise of it, sudden or gradual, back to the focus of con- 
sciousness, constitutes the cyclical movement of the moment 
consciousness. 



CHAPTER XI 

THE THRESHOLD OP MENTAL LIFE 

In discussing the psychic minimum, it has been pointed 
out that there is a minimum of consciousness beyond which 
the moment cannot fall, if it is to work efficiently in its 
functions and adaptations to the conditions of the external 
environment. The arousal of such a psychic minimum de- 
pends on the general state of the functioning aggregate. 
Under certain conditions the state of the functioning ag- 
gregate may change so as to make it more difficult to arouse 
the requisite psychic minimum ; on the other hand, the con- 
ditions may be of such a nature as to make the psychic 
minimum more easily aroused. Both sets of conditions in- 
dicate an abnormal state of the functioning aggregate. 

Under the influence of certain toxic stimuli, such, for 
instance, as alcohol, cannabis and opium, the psychic min- 
imum becomes easily aroused, associations in certain direc- 
tions are awakened with great rapidity. This is clearly 
illustrated in the many forms of autotoxic and bacterial 
maladies accompanied by high temperature and consequent 
inducement of maniacal-like states, such, for instance, as 
are to be found in malaria, typhoid fever, and so on. Still 
clearer is the same condition revealed in the many states of 
mental alienation characterized by maniacal attacks, such as 
are to be found in the various forms of mania, simple mania, 
recurrent mania, alternating mania, mania furiosa and other 
states, in which the so-called maniacal outbreaks are mani- 
fested. In all these conditions the psychic minimum is 
readily aroused, the aggregate of moments has become more 
sensitive, and hence more responsive to stimuli coming 
from the external environment. 

269 



270 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

In other states the psychic minimum may be aroused 
with great difficulty. Such states may occur under the in- 
fluence of depressive drugs, such, for instance, as the bro- 
mides, the later stages of the action of toxic and autotoxic 
agencies. The man in the stage of drunkenness is awak- 
ened with difficulty, the difficulty corresponding with the 
depth of the stage of intoxication. The patient in the later 
stages of high fever is in a state of stupor, a condition 
from which it is the harder to arouse him the more insidious 
and more intense the fever is. In idiopathic and the later 
stages of Jacksonian epilepsy, conditions which may be 
characterized as to their disorganized chaotic motor dis- 
charges as "motor manias," are often followed by states 
of stupor in which the arousal of the psychic minimum of 
the mental aggregate becomes nigh impossible. 

In the different forms of melancholia, such as simple 
melancholia, the recurrent and alternating forms, and espe- 
cially in the states termed stuporous melancholia, this con- 
dition of fall of the psychic minimum, with consequent 
difficulty of arousal of the mental aggregate, is clearly 
manifested. In melancholia the flow of associative psycho- 
motor activity is greatly impeded, and mental synthesis is 
effected with difficulty. Moments require a considerable 
length of time to reach the fulness of their development 
and their association with other moments is one of a slow, 
difficult and painful process. 

The fluctuations in the ease and difficulty of arousal of 
the psychic minimum of the moment aggregate are but 
approximately estimated in complex mental states. In the 
more elementary forms of moments they may be deter- 
mined with more or less precision by the intensity and 
duration of stimulation required. AVhen the arousal of the 
aggregate requires a stimulus of high intensity, then the 
psychic minimum is aroused with difficulty; on the other 
hand, when the mental aggregate requires for its arousal 
a stimulus of low intensity, then the psychic minimum is 



THRESHOLD OF MENTAL LIFE 271 

aroused with ease. The difficulty of arousal of the mental 
aggregate means a fall and impoverishment of the psychic 
minimum, while the ease of arousal or of stimulation of the 
aggregate means a rise of the psychic minimum. Now, it 
seems clear that when the functions of the mental aggre- 
gate are effected with difficulty, there is a fall of the psychic 
minimum and a rise of the intensity of the stimulus, and 
when there is ease of inducing functioning activity in the 
aggregate, there is a rise of the psychic minimum and con- 
sequently a fall in the intensity of the stimulus. The ex- 
ternal stimulus and the psychic minimum stand in inverse 
relation to each other. 

If the activity of the functioning aggregate is regarded 
in relation to the stimulus, the two are found to be inti- 
mately related. A definite amount of stimulus is required 
before the aggregate can begin to function. A fall below 
that amount will fail to arouse the psychic minimum. Now 
that intensity of stimulus which is next to the one just suf- 
ficient to arouse tne aggregate to functioning activity and 
give rise to the psychic minimum, may be termed the stim- 
ulus threshold, while the state lower than the minimum 
may be termed the moment threshold. In order that a 
moment or aggregate of moments should become in a con- 
dition to function, it must first overstep the psychic or 
moment threshold, attain the psychic minimum, while the, 
external stimulus must overstep the stimulus threshold. 

The relation in which the thresholds stand to the psychic 
minimum is not the same in which they are to each other. 
The psychic threshold and the stimulus threshold are in 
direct relation. If a higher stimulus is required to awaken 
the psychic minimum, that indicates that both the psychic 
and stimulus thresholds have been raised. The same con- 
dition, however, shows that the psychic minimum has not 
increased. The thresholds and the minimum are not di- 
rectly related. A rise of the thresholds is a fall of the 
psychic minimum, while a fall of the thresholds is a rise of 



272 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

psychic minimum. The thresholds and the minimum are 
in inverse relation. 

In the simpler forms of sensory experience, the stim- 
ulus threshold is found by measurements for the different 
senses. Thus two parallel lines are for most people barely 
distinguishable when the distance between them subtends an 
angle of less than 60 seconds. In the sense of hearing, vi- 
brations recurring between 30-35 per second are barely dis- 
tinguishable. Below 16 vibrations per second no sensation 
of sound can be produced. Thresholds have been similarly 
determined for all other sensations. Thus the sense of 
touch, when tested by the sethesiometer, which, by the way, 
is an extremely unsatisfactory instrument, gives the average 
for the tip of the forefinger about 1.65 mm., on the back of 
the hand about 16.0 mm. Sensitivity to pain as tested by 
the algeometer varies from 10° to 15°. Sensitivity to smell 
varies with different substances; thus for smell of garlic 
sensitivity varies in detecting 1 part in 57,000 parts of 
water to 1 part in 44,000 parts of water; for oil of lemon 
from 1 to 280,000 to 1 in 116,000. Taste can detect the 
bitterness of quinine in a solution of 1 part quinine to 
about 400,000 to 450,000 of water; the sweetness of sugar 
can be detected in a solution of 1 part sugar to 200 of 
water; the taste of salt can be detected in a solution of 
1 part salt to about 2,000 parts of water. 

In the higher and more complex moments there is no 
possibility, for the present at least, to determine math- 
ematically the amount of the stimulus threshold; but all 
the phenomena reviewed by us, as well as the analogy with 
the simpler moments leave no doubt that such a threshold 
and its correlative threshold of the moment consciousness 
play a very important part in the formation and interrela- 
tion of functioning complex moment aggregates. 

The moment threshold rises with the activity of the mo- 
ment. The longer the duration of the activity of the moment 
the greater is the relative increase of stimuli, both in num- 



THRESHOLD OF MENTAL LIFE 273 

ber and intensity, requisite to prolong the activity at the 
same pitch. As our work on a subject progresses, unless 
new points of view unfold, serving as new stimulations, our 
interest wanes and our attention lags. In fixating a point 
we find that more and more effort is requisite to keep it 
before our eye, and that it finally disappears. Something 
new comes within the field of vision. 

In the sphere of sensation we find the same rise of 
moment threshold. We are all acquainted with the fact 
that an additional candle or lamp, for instance, in a well- 
lighted room does not produce the same sensory effect 
as when brought into a more or less dark room. An elec- 
tric light in the sun is scarcely perceptible. An additional 
ounce to a lifted pound does not feel as heavy as when 
raised by itself. A sound added to another sound or 
to a noise, sounds less loud as when appearing isolated, 
or when the same sound is breaking upon silence. The 
same relation holds true in the case of other senses. This 
same truth is still more clearly brought out in the fact 
that if we take a certain stimulus as a unit giving rise 
to a definite sensation, then as we progressively ascend 
and add more and more units of the same stimulus, the 
intensity of the sensation is far from rising proportion- 
ately. If we take, for instance, the weight of an ounce 
as our unit of stimulation, then the successive moments 
of unit-stimulations, that is, of ounces, will not give rise 
to as distinct and similar sensations as the initial stimula- 
tion. The second ounce will give a sensation fainter than 
the first one, and the third fainter than the second, and 
so on until a point is reached when the sensation of the 
additional ounce will not at all be appreciated, will dwindle 
away and almost reach the zero point. In the same way, 
if the pressure of a gramme is excited in the hand, suc- 
cessive increments of grammes will not in equal degree 
increase the sensory effect; the additional increments of 
grammes, though they are equal units of stimulation, give 
19 



274 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

rise to fainter and fainter sensations, until finally all sen- 
sory appreciation of the added unit fades away and dis- 
appears. If the hand is immersed in water, say at the 
freezing point, an addition of ten degrees will be per- 
ceptibly appreciated, while successive increments of ten 
degrees each will be felt less and less, and finally will not 
be noticed and become difficult to detect. In short, the 
moment threshold rises with its stimulation. To bring 
about a sensory response of an already stimulated sense- 
organ the intensity of the stimulus must be relatively 
increased. This is what constitutes Weber's law. The 
continuous progressive sensory response of a sense-organ 
requires a constant increase of stimulations which, within 
certain limits, bears a constant ratio to the total stimulus. 
This law is sometimes summed up by psychologists in the 
statement that "the increase of the stimulus necessary to 
produce an increase of the sensation bears a constant ratio 
to the total stimulus." Activity raises the moment thresh- 
old ; it is the beginning of fatigue. 

The rise of threshold after stimulation holds true in 
the whole domain of biological activity. If the gastroc- 
nemius muscle of a frog, for instance, is stimulated by 
an electric current, the muscle, with each successive stim- 
ulation, responds less readily with a contraction, and this 
becomes more evident with the onset of fatigue. Pffefer, 
in a series of extremely interesting experiments, has shown 
that spermatozoids of ferns are attracted by malic acid, 
the progressive response of attraction of the cell requiring 
a constant increase of the degree of concentration of the 
acid, the increment of stimulations, as in the case of sen- 
sation, bearing, within certain limits, a constant ratio to 
the total stimulus. The threshold rises with each succes- 
sive stimulation. 

The rise of moment thresholds increases with intensity 
and duration of stimulation as we approach the state of 
fatigue. Through the influence of exhaustion, fatigue, or 



THRESHOLD OF MENTAL LIFE 275 

the influence of toxic, autotoxic, emotional and other stimu- 
lations, the thresholds of certain moments have been raised 
so that ordinary or even maximal stimuli can no longer 
call out any response of the moments. Now, when such a 
rise of moment thresholds is present, the moments with 
raised thresholds can no longer enter into association with 
systems of moments with which they are usually associated, 
and the result is dissociation, giving rise to the great mul- 
titude of phenomena of functional psychosis with a sub- 
conscious background, the extent of which depends on the 
number of raised moment thresholds, on the extent of the 
dissociation effected. 

When a moment or aggregate of moments begins to func- 
tion it also radiates stimulations to other moments or aggre- 
gates of moments. All the aggregates which these radiated 
stimulations reach will not equally begin to function. It 
will depend largely on the state of the aggregate and its 
threshold. If the radiated stimuli be minimal, the many 
aggregates that have a high threshold will not be affected 
at all. Furthermore, many aggregates whose arousal could 
otherwise be easily effected by the given stimulus may tem- 
porarily be in a condition in which their thresholds have 
become raised and thus fall outside the sphere of activity 
of the functioning aggregate. On the other hand, aggre- 
gates that are usually inaccessible to those minimal 
stimuli may under certain conditions get into activity by 
similar stimuli through the previous lowering of the thresh- 
old of the total aggregate. Thus the aggregates set into 
activity by the functioning aggregate are conditioned by 
the rise and fall of their thresholds. 

In case where the threshold of an aggregate is raised, 
the radiating minimal stimuli coming from a particular 
functioning aggregate may become efficient and reach the 
threshold, when another aggregate begins to function si- 
multaneously. This holds true even in the case when the 
minimal stimuli coming from two different aggregates are 



276 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

just below the threshold stimulus. Thus, under certain 
conditions, when visual stimuli are barely or not at all dis- 
cernible, they can become intensified by re-enforcing them 
with auditory stimuli. This is commonly found in the fact 
of forgetfulness of a name or of some event and in the 
mode of its recovery. We try to find the name and seek to 
come to it in one line of thought, but of no avail ; new lines 
are attempted, and finally the combined activity of the sys- 
tems reach the lapsed aggregate whose threshold, through 
a lapse, the nature of which will be discussed afterward, 
has become temporarily raised. 

We find the same truth further exemplified in the case 
of the infant under my observation. When with the nipple 
in his mouth the infant ceased nursing, the sucking move- 
ments could be induced again by stimulating some other 
sense-organ. The tactile pressure, temperature and taste 
stimuli coming from the nipple in the infant's mouth be- 
came insufficient to stimulate to activity the functioning 
aggregate of sucking movement on account of its raised 
threshold, and only additional stimulation could bring 
about a further functioning of the lapsed aggregate. This, 
of course, could also be effected by making the tactual and 
pressure stimuli coming from the nipple more intense, such, 
for instance, as shaking the nipple while the infant kept it 
in his mouth. This increase of intensity, however, mainly 
indicates that the stimuli were no longer effective, and an 
additional stimulus was requisite, a stimulus that might 
come either from the same aggregate or from a totally dif- 
ferent aggregate. 

In the many cases of post-hypnotic amnesia, we find the 
same truth further illustrated. In the deeper stages of 
hypnosis, from which the subject awakens with no remem- 
brance of what had occurred during the state of hypnosis, 
the lapsed memories can still be brought into the upper 
consciousness by plying the subject with many questions. 
During the trance or during the intermediate stages, with 



THRESHOLD OF MENTAL LIFE 277 

subsequent trance and suggested amnesia, the subject is 
made to perform a certain action, to light and extinguish 
the gas four times in succession, or to open and close the 
door four times. The subject is then awakened from his 
trance ; he remembers nothing of what has taken place. If 
he is asked point-blank whether he remembers any inci- 
dents of his hypnotic state, he answers with an emphatic 
negative. If now the subject is asked whether he knows 
how much two times two are or his attention is incidentally 
directed to the gas or to the door, he at once becomes re- 
flective, the subconscious memories are on the way to surge 
up, and a few further indirect questions, the number de- 
pending on the depth of hypnosis, finally bring about the 
lost memories. The threshold that has risen at the end of 
the trance is stepped over by the combined effect of the 
many stimulations coming from different directions and 
the subconsciously submerged moment or aggregate of 
moments surges up to the focus or nucleus of the upper 
consciousness. 

Once a particular moment is stimulated in its appropri- 
ate way, it may go on developing, and usually does so by 
stimulating and setting into activity aggregates of mo- 
ments associated with it, or may form new combinations of 
aggregates. The solution of a problem may present great 
difficulties, but once started on the appropriate line, the 
whole series of combinations goes on unfolding, stimulat- 
ing other moments and aggregates and forming more and 
more complex combinations. Thus, Archimedes, as the 
story runs, while in the bath made discovery of the law of 
specific gravity. Newton under the apple-tree made the 
discovery of universal gravitation. Hughes was startled by 
the idea of symmetry in his discovery of the laws of crys- 
tallography. Goethe was led to his conception of metamor- 
phosis and evolution by a skull on the plains of Italy. 
Darwin, by reading Malthus's economical treatise on popu- 
lation, was inspired to work out the great principles of the 



278 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

struggle for existence and natural selection. Myers was 
led by the greater redness of blood in the blood-vessels of 
tropical patients to his grand conceptions of transforma- 
tion and equivalence of energy. All these examples illus- 
trate the fact that once a moment has been started, it goes 
on developing by stimulating other cognate moments and 
aggregates to functioning activity. 

The same condition is also found in psychopathic bor- 
derland states, such as dreams. In dreams a peripheral 
stimulus gives rise to sensations that start the functioning 
of moments, which in their turn give rise to phantastic 
combinations of different aggregates. This phantastic com- 
bination of aggregates, giving rise to the functioning of 
otherwise unusual, or what may be termed abnormal con- 
stellations, is largely due to the fact of redistribution of 
thresholds in the dream state. The dream state is charac- 
terized by a rise of the thresholds of the moments and 
aggregates that have been functioning during the waking 
states, the thresholds of these aggregates having been raised 
through fatigue. In such a state as this moments that have 
their thresholds relatively or absolutely lowered through 
rest, in other words, moments or aggregates that are un- 
usual during the waking state, will become aroused and 
begin to function, hence the phantasms of the world of 
dreams. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE THRESHOLD IN ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 

In the interrelation of moment aggregates the moment 
threshold plays an important role, since its oscillations, its 
height and fall are at the basis of their associations and 
dissociations. Consciousness, consisting of complex aggre- 
gates of moments, passes in the course of degeneration 
through stages in the inverse order in which it has been 
built up. The complex aggregates of the higher type be- 
come dissolved, dissociated into less complex aggregates of 
moments of lower types. Constellations become disaggre- 
gated into clusters, clusters into communities, communities 
into systems, systems into groups, and groups may become 
decomposed into their constituent elements. The process 
of disaggregation may be slow or rapid, but its course is 
the same, it is from constellations to groups, from higher 
to lower types of moments. 

With the process of dissolution going on in a mental 
aggregate we find modifications and redistributions of 
thresholds of all those moments with which the dissolving 
aggregate is directly or indirectly connected. A variation 
produced in one moment threshold tends to modify all the 
rest. An aggregate consists of many subordinate aggre- 
gates, and with its dissolution many moment thresholds 
become modified, affecting other thresholds of moments 
with which the constituents of the given aggregate are 
interrelated. 

The slow heightening of the thresholds going hand in 
hand with the process of disaggregation may result in a 

279 



280 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

permanent rise of thresholds or may end in a paradoxical 
fall of thresholds. The components of the dissolving or 
already dissolved aggregate fall into the subconscious, the 
moment thresholds become lowered. While the thresholds 
of the moments, when stimulated through the components 
of the dissolving aggregate, become insurmountable, the 
components of the moments become more easily accessi- 
ble through the lowering thresholds, if the attempt is 
made through the subconscious. We are thus met with 
the paradoxical state in which anaesthesias are also hyper- 
esthesias, and amnesias are at the same time hypermnesias. 
In fact we may assert that all psychopathic functional 
disturbances, that is, disturbances in which great rise of 
moment thresholds with consequent functional dissociation 
of moment aggregates have taken place, present this seem- 
ingly contradictory double aspect of loss and presence, of 
a hyperassthetic anaesthesia and a hypermnesic amnesia. 
Eedistribution with rise and fall of thresholds gives us a 
clew to the phenomena of functional psychosis. 

The dissolution of a moment aggregate sets the com- 
ponents free, which become through subconscious inter- 
communication more easily accessible. In other words, the 
process of disaggregation, while raising the conscious 
moment thresholds, reveals by it the low subconscious 
thresholds, in the same way as distraction of the attention 
reveals the presence of an exaggerated reflex knee-jerk or 
as the removal of the cerebrum in a frog reveals the low 
thresholds of the spinal nervous aggregates. The subcon- 
scious is in fact a reflex consciousness, and its activity 
becomes fully revealed with the removal or dissolution of 
the upper strata of consciousness. As long as a group, 
system, community, cluster, forms a part of an aggregate 
it is more difficult to have it aroused to function than when 
it is dissociated, isolated from its other constituents. This 
relation may be formulated in the statement that the rise 
of threshold is directly proportional to the complexity of 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 281 

the aggregate and inversely proportional to the simplicity 
of its constitution. 

The simpler an aggregate is the lower are the moment 
thresholds. This truth is clearly manifested in the case 
of children. The child is easily aroused to action, slight 
stimuli divert its attention in different directions, and any 
idea and image crossing its mind has its motor manifesta- 
tions. In savages, too, we meet with a similar condition of 
mind. Mental life is simple, and any passing mood and 
emotion have immediate motor manifestations. In the 
mentally defective, such as the imbecile, the cretin, the 
idiot, the systems that are more or less intact are easily 
aroused by slight stimuli; in other words, the aggregates 
have low thresholds. In psychopathic cases and in the 
insane we meet once more with similar conditions of men- 
tal aggregates, the moment thresholds fall and become 
lower with the process of degeneration. 

The same thing is manifested in the state of belief 
induced in persons whose mental life is narrow and lim- 
ited. Belief is the beginning of action. Now in children, 
savages, and mentally defective, belief is easily induced. 
This is clearly manifested in the case of suggestibility, 
which in fact is closely connected with the state of belief. 
It is notorious how children are extremely suggestible, so 
are savages, so are mentally defective persons of narrow 
thought and low education, and also the mentally unbal- 
anced and insane. Anything, no matter how absurd, that 
falls in with their expectations is greedily accepted and 
immediately acted upon. Insane delusions in the different 
forms of melancholia and paranoia seem to present an 
exception to our statement, but as a matter of fact they, 
too, fall in line, considering the fact that any sugges- 
tion is readily accepted by the insane, if it only goes to 
strengthen the central delusion. Whatever can be assimi- 
lated by the functioning mental aggregate gains easy 
access, clearly demonstrating the fact that even where the 



282 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

mental disease is of such a nature as to have moment 
thresholds raised, conditions found in the various forms 
of melancholias, still the chief organized functioning 
systems are set into activity by the slightest stimula- 
tions showing a low threshold of the dissociated active 
moments. All other conditions remaining the same, it may 
be asserted that the simpler in structure a moment becomes 
the lower falls its threshold. An aggregate in the state 
of disaggregation will have the thresholds of its constituent 
moments progressively lowered, the fall being directly 
proportional to the depth of the disaggregative process. 

The continuous functioning of an aggregate brings 
about a process of disaggregation, the moment threshold 
of the given aggregate slowly rising until the reverse proc- 
ess of aggregation sets in, more or less restoring the pre- 
vious state of the moment threshold. This is partly to be 
seen in the phenomena of fluctuation of the attention. If 
the attention is fixed on an object, say on a blot of ink, 
at first the interest flags, then there is a persistent tendency 
to look away from the blot, transfer the gaze to something 
else, and finally the whole blot vanishes from the field of 
attention and vision. New, persistent, though fluctuating 
efforts of attention are requisite to keep the object, the 
image, the idea before the focus of mental vision. The 
functioning of the particular mental aggregate is slowly 
bringing about a process of disaggregation, thereby rais- 
ing the moment threshold, making further functioning 
more difficult, and finally having it arrested through the 
maximum rise of the moment threshold. This rise of thresh- 
old through function makes it possible for other aggregates 
to be aroused in the order of the heights of their thresholds ; 
the lower the threshold the earlier is the aggregate stimu- 
lated, the higher the threshold the later is the aggregate 
set into activity. 

Fluctuations of moment thresholds and formation of 
combinations of moment aggregates are of special impor- 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 283 

tance in pathological states. Maniacal states of different 
forma of mental alienation present a similar distribution 
of thresholds. Maniacal states, wherever they occur, pre- 
sent a disintegration of the total interrelation of aggregates 
of moments as synthetized in the principal constellation, 
with a consequent lowering of the disintegrated constituent 
aggregates. Once such disorganization is induced, any 
stimulus may call forth an aggregate, which, through its 
radiating stimulations, may awaken all kinds of combina- 
tions and constellations in the aggregates the thresholds of 
which have been lowered. These aggregates, liberated 
from the control of the principal constellation, when stimu- 
lated, naturally give rise to chaotic, meaningless kaleido- 
scopic play of moments. The maniac is full of activity, 
his muscles are in constant play, and when the attack is at 
its height, he is continually gesticulating, running, dancing, 
shouting, singing and screaming. Reactions are intensi- 
fied, reflexes are lively, verbal associations are greatly 
facilitated. 

Disintegration of moment aggregates, redistribution 
and fall of thresholds are the cardinal traits that charac- 
terize maniacal states, wherever they are found, whether 
in the general somatic diseases, or in the conditions of men- 
tal alienation. Now in all states of such a nature, once a 
moment is started to activity, it goes on developing by ever 
forming new phantastic combinations. This process is very 
much similar in character to the activity of the moments 
in dream states. The difference between the two being 
that while the combinations in the dream states are largely 
due to a rise of moment thresholds, in the maniacal states 
the different combinations and connection of moments 
are mainly due to a fall of the moment thresholds. 

Maniacal states, on account of the general fall of mo- 
ment thresholds, are very much similar to the waking 
states. In both the waking and maniacal states the same 
condition of reduction of the moment thresholds is to be 



284 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

found. Maniacal states are waking states with the only- 
difference that they are abnormal, psychopathic waking 
states. The maniac is too much awake, responding with 
all his being to every slight and passing stimulus. He is 
in a state of intoxication, his mind and body are shaky 
and unstable, as if he were under the influence of strong 
liquors. The maniac seems to be possessed by powerful, 
active and malicious demons of the world of spirits. 

The nature of maniacal states gives us also a clew as 
to how to counteract them, and if possible, when the process 
of degeneration has not advanced far, to bring about a syn- 
thesis of the moment aggregates and thus re-establish the 
controlling synthetic life activity of the disintegrated prin- 
cipal constellation, constituting the personal character of 
the particular individual as the result of his whole life his- 
tory and development. To free the maniac from the bane- 
ful action of the world of demons, the influence of those 
harmful spirits must be removed. The patient's psychic 
life must be better defended and protected against the 
demoniacal possession by surrounding him with higher bat- 
tlements and stronger fortifications. In other words, mania 
can be reduced by raising the moment threshold. This rise 
of the threshold may come on by itself and the maniacal 
states may even pass into states of melancholy. 

States of melancholy, whether found in general somatic 
diseases or in conditions known as insanity, are character- 
ized by a redistribution and rise of the thresholds of the 
moment aggregates. The more or less general rise of the 
thresholds makes it difficult for the usual combinations of 
moment aggregates to become formed. Combinations of 
incongruent moment aggregates, the thresholds of which 
are relatively lower, are alone in a condition to function. 
The field of consciousness becomes narrowed, the subcon- 
scious thresholds rise higher and higher. The course of 
mental activity, on account of the rise of the thresholds of 
the moment aggregates, is limited and confined to a narrow 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 285 

field, in which only those moment aggregates can partici- 
pate, the thresholds of which are relatively lower than the 
rest. The ensuing result is the formation of a delusion, 
which becomes the more pronounced and the more fixed the 
longer the general conditions of the rise of moment thresh- 
olds continue. The mind of the melancholic, especially in 
the chronic forms, becomes inactive, and turns in one 
narrow groove delved out by the delusion. The gradual 
growth of difficulty in effecting combinations of moment 
aggregates, due to the gradual rise of the moment thresh- 
olds, are accompanied by unpleasant moods and painful 
emotions so highly characteristic of melancholic states. 
In this respect of mood and emotion melancholic states 
differ radically and in fact are the very opposite of the 
maniacal states in which the moment thresholds are lowered 
and the formation of moment aggregates and their combina- 
tions are effected with greater ease, giving rise to agreeable 
moods and pleasant emotions. 

Melancholic states may be said to be characterized by 
the cardinal traits of redistribution and rise of moment 
thresholds, by a narrowed activity concomitant with a pain- 
ful emotional condition. The moment aggregate aroused 
by a stimulus will in the melancholic mind grow and 
develop and arouse to activity moment aggregates, the 
thresholds of which are low enough to be reached by 
the radiating stimulations coming from the primarily 
awakened moment aggregate. On account of the more 
or less general rise of moment thresholds, the process of 
synthesis has but a narrow selection. In the course of 
time, as the process of synthesis is more often repeated, 
definite and stable combinations of moment aggregates be- 
come formed. The longer the general states of the rise of 
moment thresholds last the more stable do these combina- 
tions of moment aggregates become, and finally they be- 
come so firmly organized as to form stable compounds; the 
melancholic states become chronic. 



286 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

The rise of moment thresholds in melancholic states can 
be easily demonstrated by observation, and especially by 
experimentation. The mind of the melancholic patient is 
concentrated on his miserable condition and fixed on his 
principal delusion. Moments relating to his general state 
are alone active, while others are awakened with great 
difficulty. Reaction time is retarded in melancholia, and 
so is association time. The most simple questions must 
often be repeated a number of times before they are fully 
realized. The answers come only after a considerable time, 
and sometimes they are not forthcoming at all. Especially 
is this the case when questions relate to subjects lying 
outside the narrow field of the patient's delusions. 

This rise of the moment thresholds and consequent 
narrowing of the field of consciousness is clearly seen in 
stuporous melancholia, but it is still more clearly demon- 
strated by experiments, even in the mild cases and early 
stages of melancholia. The method of association is valu- 
able for testing the degree of narrowness of the field of con- 
sciousness, the height of the rise of the moment threshold, 
the strength and extent of the organization of the moment 
consciousness constituting the principal delusion. If the 
patient, for instance, is told that when a word is given to 
him, he should immediately tell a series of words that 
come into his mind and pronounce them in quick suc- 
cession as rapidly as possible, it is found, when an interval 
of five or ten seconds is allowed for the experiment, that 
the patient cannot tell more than a word or two, and more 
often nothing at all, the mind being a perfect blank. The 
same holds true, if the patient is told that when a word 
will be pronounced he should tell any phrase that happens 
accidentally to come into his mind. The result is the same ; 
the mind is a blank. The words and phrases given by the 
patient, when such are given at all, are found to relate to 
his principal delusion. The moment aggregates are or- 
ganized round the principal moment, which forms the 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 287 

kernel of the delusion, the whole combination forming a 
stable compound. 

The great stability of the combination of moment aggre- 
gates is a very characteristic and also very important trait 
of melancholic states. In respect to stability, melancholic 
states contrast strongly with maniacal states, the psychic 
combinations of which are extremely unstable and fluct- 
uating. 

Melancholic states have a great similarity to sleeping 
states. The conditions in both are very much alike. The 
more or less general rise of the moment thresholds in mel- 
ancholic states, with only a relative fall of thresholds in a 
more or less narrowed field of moment aggregates, brings 
the melancholic states very near to the dream consciousness 
of sleeping states ; in fact, we may say that melancholia is 
a sleeping state, only it is an abnormal, or psychopathic 
sleeping state. The melancholic dreams with his eyes open. 
The dream of melancholia is unchangeable, fixed, oppres- 
sive; it is of the nature of a nightmare. The melancholic 
has on him the relentless grip of a horrible incubus. From 
the depressing sleeping states the melancholic may awake, 
he may then have lucid intervals, and with the further 
removal of "inhibition," with the fall of thresholds, may 
even pass into states of excitement, into states of maniacal 
exaltation. 

This view of melancholic states from the stand-point of 
moment threshold is not purely theoretical ; it is not en- 
tirely devoid of practical application. For it suggests a 
way of how to alleviate the condition of these unfortunates. 
As our investigations have shown that melancholic states 
consist in a rise of the moment thresholds, with a conse- 
quent formation of extremely limited combinations of mo- 
ment aggregates, the only way to counteract this state of 
things is to endeavor by different means, whether by stimu- 
lants or by other agencies, to demolish the great heights of 
those thresholds. To counteract effectively melancholic 



288 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

states and to bring about a dissolution of the stably organ- 
ized delusional moment compounds, one must direct the 
battering-ram against the thresholds. In the treatment of 
melancholia, the psychiatrist must keep before his mind 
one, and only one, paramount principle: reduce the 
thresholds. 

The following hospital notes of observations and ex- 
periments on a case carried out by Dr. A. Heger, under 
my direction, may be of interest to the reader: 

"Admitted to Manhattan State Hospital, March 21, 
1896 ; age, 19. Single. Seamstress. Hungary. Reads and 
writes. Diag., melancholia acuta. 

"Patient noisy and screaming; does not seem to know 
what goes on about her. She is morose and sullen. 

"Excitable on admission; troublesome; says, 'There is 
something the matter with me, my head aches ; I think I am 
different from other people.' Has ill-defined delusions of 
persecution; is depressed and melancholy. Is excitable at 
times and noisy, if interfered with. 

"Patient became despondent about a month ago. She 
complained of being sick and having no appetite ; was very 
irritable and took a dislike to members of the family. 

"March 30th. — Patient becoming quiet, speaks little; 
appears confused. One month later speaks only with mem- 
bers of family, and in June speaks to no one. 

"From this time on patient remained in this condi- 
tion, with but little change from time to time. She was 
tube-fed the greater part of the time, occasionally spoon- 
fed, and occasionally up and was helped about the ward; 
at no time would she make any voluntary movements; 
she never soiled herself. She was on thyroid treatment 
for several months and improved during this time. From 
this time on patient remained in a stuporous and cataleptic 
condition for two years. 

"January 29, 1898. — Patient lies in stuporous condi- 
tion. She is cataleptic, tube-fed; eyes are closed, with 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 289 

some tremor of the lids. Various stimuli tried, such as 
tickling, disagreeable odors, electricity, and pain, but re- 
sponses were absent or occasionally barely perceptible. 
Has never been seen to sleep, but lies in the same stuporous 
manner night and day. She assumes strange positions 
at times. 

' ' She was given six ounces of spiritus f rumenti in three 
doses by tube. Half an hour after first dose, patient began 
to cry and moan ; later on, to sing and talk ; spoke about her 
previous life, said her mother was poor and she had had to 
work very hard, but that Miss O'Donnell, the forewoman in 
the shop, had been very kind to her ; said that two doctors 
had been in and had given her some brandy. She spoke 
about her sister not having been to see her for some time; 
called the nurse by her name, asking her to excuse her for 
giving so much trouble; that she knew she had her eyes 
closed, but she could not open them. She asked for a 
looking-glass, and said she would not know herself. 
Sang constantly in a drunken manner 'Nearer, my God, 
to Thee,' and on being asked, sang also 'Kosie 'Grady' 
(this song came out while she was in the hospital). Her 
manner was that of a sane and drunken person. She then 
became quiet, and when roused would make an effort to 
sing. 

''January 30th. — In her usual condition, but seems 
more docile ; will move hands on being urged ; drinks milk ; 
later eats rice, bread and milk from spoon; will partially 
open eyes if urged. 

"No special treatment; patient quiet all day. 

"Night nurse stated that patient apparently slept sev- 
eral hours. Patient up and in usual quiet condition when 
seen at 10 a.m. No drug given ; was made to stand and left 
in order to see if she would seat herself. She swayed consid- 
erably, but remained in the same place ; was gently directed 
to a chair, but in trying to sit, missed the chair and fell, 
her eyes being shut, and received a slight abrasion of the 
20 



290 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

chin. She seemed quite disturbed by this ; her pulse rose to 
100, and she appeared agitated. She was taken to a room 
and stimuli, such as snuff, blown in her nostrils, and snow 
on her neck tried, but without success. Ridicule was tried. 
She was told that she would be a success in a dime museum 
as an ossified woman, at which she smiled, and her arms 
were put in the position of a banjo player and a jig 
whistled which also amused her. 

"Her abdomen was kneaded over the stomach; this was 
done suddenly and roused her. She showed signs of dis- 
tress and attempted to leave the chair, opening her eyes 
and apparently starting to speak, but quickly regained her 
quiet, and after this the same process brought no response. 
So far the results undoubtedly show that if a stimulus, new 
and unexpected, is tried, a response is almost certain; but 
if the same thing is repeated, she seems prepared and will 
take no notice of it. 

"In the afternoon she was taken to the patients' dance, 
in the hope that the change and the music might rouse her. 
She was in the care of a nurse, who was instructed to note 
her actions carefully and try and interest her in the pro- 
ceedings. She opened her eyes on reaching the hall, and 
after apparently taking a look around, closed them and 
kept them closed ; except for this, and for the fact that she 
opened them slightly at various times on the walk to the 
hall, she remained in her usual condition. Her physical 
condition has improved since the experiments, her tongue 
becoming clean and her breath less foul. In regard to 
sleeping, the nurse thinks that she was asleep, but is not 
sure, as she did not snore, but her breathing seemed heavier 
than normal. 

' ' One nurse who had charge of her for some time states 
that she never slept, but lay 'in a kind of stupor' all the 
time. 

"January 31st. — Patient received four ounces of spir- 
itus frumenti. The effect was not very marked. She 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 291 

talked and later read aloud five pages from a book given 
her, asking about the words she could not make out. She 
was not as excitable as usual. 

"February 1st. — Received four ounces spiritus fru- 
menti at 10.30 a.m. At 3 p.m. she was dressed (visitors 
being in the wards till this time), and she walked with 
some difficulty; would not respond to or notice any ques- 
tions. 

"February 2d. — Was dressed with the other patients 
in the morning. No spiritus frumenti. Sat about the 
ward during day; could net be made to talk, but ate her 
meals and allowed herself to be led about ; walks well. 

"February 3d. — Up and sitting in ward; takes no 
notice of efforts made to rouse her; patient received six 
ounces of spiritus frumenti in three doses. A little later 
opened eyes on being urged and kept them open for about 
half a minute at a time. She laughed, cried and sang; 
would speak a little when questioned; was intoxicated and 
incoherent. 

"She had talked with the nurses and eaten her din- 
ner with a good appetite. Later on she was taken into 
a separate room off the ward and an effort made to hold 
her attention as much as possible. She said she felt 
tired and that her stomach ached and she wanted to go 
to bed. She was apparently but slightly, if at all, under 
the effect of the whiskey. She had a tendency to fall back 
into her stuporous condition, and this was combated. She 
kept her eyes resolutely closed. She would remain quiet 
for about a minute and then suddenly make some remark, 
in nearly every case repeating some phrases overheard 
by her previously. She would stop in the middle of a 
sentence suddenly, as if she had lost her train of thought, 
and cry out in anger and clasp her head and say, ' Oh, 
don't make me talk,' or, ' I can't say anything,' and begin 
to scream. When quiet, it is difficult to rouse her or get 
her to speak, but while speaking, if a question is abruptly 



292 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

put to her, she would answer, and sometimes would carry- 
on a short conversation. Her answers were, as a rule, very- 
sensible, and she would sometimes joke. Her memory is 
very good, and at times extraordinary. She spoke about 
her commitment, and said, with a laugh, that a doctor had 
asked her if she heard voices or saw visions. It was only 
by the most constant effort that her attention could be held 
or her interest excited, but during the period of two hours 
that she was questioned she improved in her attention. She 
laughed frequently and had fewer outbreaks of screaming 
and had an appearance of animation. She gradually re- 
covered from the effect of the whiskey without lapsing into 
stupor, and continued to talk while quite sober. Later on 
she returned to the ward and ate supper, and asked to be 
taken into the room, the first time she had made such a 
request. In the evening she was in her usual stuporous 
condition. ' ' 

The principal point in this method of work is the lower- 
ing of moment thresholds, no matter by what means such 
lowering is effected. The best way is to use various stimuli 
at different intervals, so that the patient should not become 
habituated to them, which may on this account lose their 
effect. The patient in the intervals should be stimulated 
to greater activity and exertion. 

When complex moment thresholds become lowered, mo- 
ments submerged into the subconscious step over the 
threshold and enter consciousness. Such a fall of the 
moment threshold is often found under the influence of 
intoxicating drugs. Slight stimuli of minimal intensity set 
into active function numerous moment aggregates endlessly 
varying in their combinations, intensity and vividness. 
Thus under the influence of opium or of hashish long- 
forgotten incidents arise with such intensity and vividness 
that one cannot help recognizing them. 

The rise and fall of moment thresholds stand out clearly 
and definitely in cases of sensory derangement where hypo- 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 293 

resthesia or hyperesthesia is present. In the case of hype- 
resthesia, the threshold is raised, while in hyperesthesia the 
threshold is lowered. In hyporesthesia, to pass the thresh- 
old and reach the psychic minimum the stimulus must 
either be intensified or a series of stimulations must become 
summated before a moment aggregate, with its psychic 
minimum, is aroused to activity. Thus in a case under 
my observation and experimentation, a case suffering from 
tactual anesthesia, with hyperesthesia of pain, pressure, 
temperature and kinresthetic sensations, a stimulus to reach 
consciousness and be felt bad either to be very intense or 
a series of stimuli had to be given in quick succession. 
When a series of intense stimuli were given in quick suc- 
cession and thus became summated, overstepping the raised 
threshold, the many stimulations were felt as one. If, 
for instance, a strong prick was given, the patient felt 
nothing at all, but if the pricks came one after another in 
quick succession, then the .patient declared that pain was 
felt as if a prick was given. If asked how many pricks, 
the patient either answered, "I do not know," or declared 
them to be "one." 

The same holds true in the case of the other sensory 
stimulations or series of quite intense pressure, pain or tem- 
perature stimuli, they are felt as one, their multiplicity not 
being discriminated, their total amount being just sufficient 
to give rise to one impression. This impression is often so 
vague that it is often hard, if not impossible, for the patient 
to localize the stimulated place or point out the direction 
where a series of pain, pressure or temperature spots have 
been excited in quick succession, forming a line having a 
certain direction. The patient, while experiencing the 
stimulation, is often even unable to tell to which hand the 
stimulus was applied, whether to the right or to the left 
hand. The same holds true in the case of the kinresthetic 
sensations. When I get hold of the patient's hand and 
move it slowly, the hand can be changed in position 



294 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

almost through an angle of 90°, and the patient, when 
blindfolded, is not in the least aware of the change. The 
patient thinks that the hand is in the same place and in the 
same position. When a series of quick, sharp movements 
are impressed on the hand, the patient feels the movement, 
but does not know in which hand to localize the movement, 
nor is she cognizant of its direction. It is only an intense 
wrench of the hand, arm or forearm that can raise in the 
patient a full consciousness of the movement impressed 
both as to locality and direction. If the intensity of the 
stimulation is decreased, but the extensity increased, the 
same result follows; thus when the stimulated area is in- 
creased, the patient is able to feel a stimulus of less in- 
tensity. This holds true of all sensations with the exception 
of touch. In other words, the raised moment thresholds 
can be overstepped either by a higher intensity or a greater 
extensity of stimulations. 

The following case of aphasia brought to me by Dr. 
Winter, Instructor in Neurology at the New York Medical 
College, is of interest from this stand-point. 

Annie Bell, age 30, Irish. Came to my laboratory May 
20, 1900. Four years ago, when patient was 26, she had 
a sudden apoplectic attack while on the street. She was 
taken home in a state of unconsciousness. Since that time 
her right side is affected. There is a marked tremor and 
paresis in the right hand and leg. There is a history of 
alcoholism; syphilis is denied by patient. Patient has 
always been well up to the time of the attack; family 
history is negative. 

Reflexes are exaggerated ; pupillary reaction and binoc- 
ular accommodation are normal. Patient complains of 
severe headaches. There is a hyposesthesia of all the forms 
of sensations on the affected side and also that of kines- 
thesia. With her eyes closed, patient is not able to repro- 
duce well with her left hand the different positions pro- 
duced by slow and very light rotations of the right hand. 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 295 

Dynamometric pressure for left hand is 70 ; for right hand, 
55. The movements of the tongue are normal. 

Patient 's mental life is greatly affected ; questions must 
be repeated before she answers them. There is consider- 
able difficulty in forming the answer, which is often incor- 
rect. Although patient was to school, and before her attack 
she could write quite well, after the attack, all her school 
knowledge, and along with it her ability of writing, was 
completely gone. She could read neither written nor 
printed letters. 

In the examination of the patient, she gave her name 
correctly, but when asked how old she was, she first said 
40, and then corrected to 30. When asked what year it was, 
she could not answer. Is it 1900? Patient answered, "I 
don't know." When a paper with the date of 1900 was 
shown to her, she did not know what it was. When her 
address was asked, she said, "284 Bleecker Street" (right 
number 285 ) . When asked, " Is it 275 ? " she said, ' ' Yes. ' ' 

Q. Do you know the name of the city ? A. New York. 

Q. What country do you live in? No answer. 

Q. What is the name of this country? No answer. 

Q. Is it England ? A. No. 

Q. Is it Ireland? A. No. 

Q. What is the name of this country ? No answer. 

gQ. Is it the United States? A. Yes. 

Q. Is it the Northern or Southern part in which you live ? 
A. Northern. 

Q. What is the name of your husband? A. Tom Bell 
(correct). 

Q. How many children have you? A. Eight — no, two 
(two is correct) ; one living and one dead. 

Q. What is your husband's occupation? A. Driver. 

Q. How much does he make a week? A. Twelve 
dollars. 

Q. What was your occupation before marriage? A. 
Laundry. 



296 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Q. How old is your child ? A. Eight years. 

The more familiar associations, having a low threshold, 
could thus be easily awakened. 

Patient is unable to talk in connected sentences and 
speaks in monosyllables. The following is an example of 
her speech : 

"My sister, goin' away, three months, in the country, 
nice time, Sprengt, Sherring Strings. Got a fellow up 
there. Write to him. Nice. How once upon time. Mother- 
in-law broke it up. All for drink. And five children. One 
is dead and other living. 

"An awful headache once in a while, top of me. Tchak- 
ing much." (Patient has great difficulty to pronounce the 
word "shaking." Lips twitched. She tried again and 
again, and failed.) "If I ever get better. Leg too ever get 
better?" Patient, however, repeats single words well; 
mispronounces only when she has to repeat a whole phrase. 

Her mother told us that the patient could not name 
objects correctly, but that she does it quite well now. Dif- 
ferent objects were shown to the patient, and she named 
them correctly, though there was some difficulty noticed in 
the process of recollection of the names. 

She could recognize pictures, but named them with dif- 
ficulty. The more familiar pictures took a shorter time. 
She could identify, however, the represented object when 
the name was given to her. 

During the experiments of naming objects which re- 
quired her utmost attention, the tremor in her hands com- 
pletely ceased. 

The patient was asked whether she could picture to her- 
self a dog or a cat. She answered, ' ' Yes. ' ' When asked if 
she could picture to herself her husband, she likewise an- 
swered affirmatively. It is, however, doubtful whether the 
patient really understood the questions. 

Colors were shown to the patient. She recognized them 
and sorted them well, with the exception of yellow. She 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 297 

does not know the name of color yellow, but remembers the 
names of colors. She does not recognize the shades of yel- 
low as yellow even when told. 

With her eyes closed, a lemon was put into her hand, 
and when asked what it was, she said, ' ' A ball. ' ' 

Q. Is it hard or soft? A. Soft. 

Told to smell and then asked what the object was, pa- 
tient said it was a lemon. With her eyes closed, she could 
by sense of touch and pressure and kinassthesis give the 
correct name of familiar objects, such as scissors. 

Q. Can you spell cat? A. C A T. 

Patient was not quite sure of the spelling. 

Q. Can you spell pretty? A. I can't. 

Q. Is it K, L, M? A. I don't know. 

Patient knows about half of the letters of the alphabet 
if the letters are named to her; others she cannot identify 
even when named; they seemed to have been entirely gone 
from her memory. She can distinguish figures from letters, 
although she cannot name them and does not know them. 

Patient can count up to twenty, and if aided, up to 
thirty-five. She also knows that after forty comes fifty, and 
so on up to one hundred. Beyond one hundred she cannot 
go. One hundred and one is an unknown, if not an un- 
knowable quantity to her. She traces letters quite well, al- 
though she reproduces them imperfectly a minute after. 

Q. How much is two and three ? A. Five. 

Q. Three and one? A. Four. 

Q. Six and one? A. Seven. 

Q. One and six? A. Sixteen. 

Q. Two and six ? Patient did not know. 

When, however, vertical strokes are made in groups of 
five and three, she counts the marks, adds them up cor- 
rectly, and then she knows how much five and three are 
in the abstract. This, however, is very slow. Sometimes, 
after counting the strokes, she still fails to give the correct 
answer, when the numbers are given in the abstract. The 



298 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

threshold is thus higher for the abstract than for the con- 
crete and the sensory; the threshold can be passed by the 
help of sensory experience, such as visual, tactual, and 
so on. 

She was then asked the following questions : 

Q. What is more, six or five? A. Six. 

Q. Eighteen or seventy-five ? A. Don't know. 

Q. Eighteen or twenty? A. Twenty. 

Q. Twenty or seventy-five? A. Don't know. 

When, however, more complex figures were asked in the 
concrete form of dollars, she gave correet answers. 

Q. What is more, 43 dollars or 39 dollars? A. Forty- 
three dollars. 

Q. Fifteen dollars or 76 dollars? A. Seventy-six 
dollars. 

Q. Eighteen dollars or 75 dollars? A. Seventy-five 
dollars. 

With her eyes closed a watch was held close to her ear 
and she was asked to tell what it was. She said, "Tick, 
tick, tick." 

Q. What is it ? She could not tell the name. 

Q. Is it a wagon ? No reply. 

Q. Is it a watch? A. Yes, yes. 

She was told to open her eyes, and she was asked to tell 
the time. Patient gave the correct time with each change 
of the movement of the hands of the watch. 

As patient knew some of the letters, syllables were made 
of them and she was asked to pronounce them. She could 
not do it. Thus she knew letter B and letter A, but when 
asked to read the composite syllable BA, she could not do 
it. The same was in the case of LO and OF. When shown 
syllable OF and asked if it would read as "of," she did 
not know. 

The following series of figures were given to her in or- 
der to test her memory : 

23, 47, 89, 76, 52. 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 299 

The series was shown to her and she was told the value 
of each number. She was then asked what the first one 
was. She could not tell. After telling her five times, she 
was asked what the first number was; she still could not 
tell. Patient is conscious of her defective memory and 
says, ' ' Right away forget them. ' ' She was then told again 
and once more asked, "What is the first one?" She then 
gave the correct answer, twenty-three. 

Q. What is the second? A. Don't know. 

Q. What is the third? A. Don't know. 

Q. What is the second ? A. Don't know. 

Q. Is it fifty? A. No. 

Q. Is it sixty? A. No. 

Q. Is it forty? A. Yes — no. 

Q. Is it forty-nine? Is it forty-three? A. Yes. 

Q. What is the first ? A. Twenty-seven. 

The interesting point is that she learned readily the in- 
dividual figures, but she could not learn their combination, 
just as in reading she learned some of the letters of the al- 
phabet, but she could not learn the syllables, that is, the 
combination of the sounds even when the individual values 
of the sounds were known to her. 

To test patient's memory, and especially her power of 
representation, the following questions were put to her : 

Q. How many sides has a square? Patient could not 
answer. 

Q. How many sides has a box? A. Four. 

Q. Has a box a top and a bottom ? A. Yes. 

Q. How many sides has a box? A. Four. 

Q. How many sides has a house? A. The front. 

Q. How many more sides has a house? Patient seems 
puzzled. 

Q. How many legs has a chair? A. Four. 

Q. How many legs has a table ? A. Four. 

These questions were put to the patient with her eyes 
shut. 



300 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Q. How many toes have you ? A. Five. 

Q. How many on both feet? A. Ten. 

Q. How many toes and fingers have you? A. Twenty. 

Q. How much is ten and ten? A. Twenty. (The an- 
swer is given very slowly.) She could not have given this 
correct reply if the question had been put in its pure 
abstract form. 

Q. How much is five and five and five and five? A. 
Twenty (very slowly). 

Q. How many legs has a horse ? A. Four. 

Horses are quite familiar to the patient since her at- 
tack, as patient lives in a large city and in a place where 
the traffic is very great, and besides, her husband is a 
driver. When, however, the less familiar question was put 
to her: How many legs has a bird? patient was puzzled, 
then said, "Three." 

Q. Has a bird got three legs? A. I don't know. 

Instead of the general form the question was put in a 
more particular form: 

Q. How many legs has a chicken ? A. Four. 

Q. Has a chicken four legs? (Patient embarrassed.) 
A. I don't know; I don't understand you. 

Q. How many legs has a cat? (familiar). A. Four. 

Q. How many legs has a chicken? A. Don't know. 

Q. Has a chicken teeth? A. No. 

Q. What do you use in drinking tea? A. Cup. 

Q. What more? A. Saucer. 

Q. What more ? Nothing. 

Q. Don 't you make it sweet ? A. Yes ; sugar. 

Q. Do you stir it? A. Yes; spoon. 

Q. Is pepper sweet? A. No. 

Q. Is it salty? A. No. 

Q. What is the taste of pepper? A. I don't know. 

Q. Would it taste hot? A. Yes. 

Q. Would it taste bitter? A. Yes. 

Q. What is the taste of vinegar? A. Sour. 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 301 

Q. What is the color of silver? A. Don't know; don't 
understand. 

Q. Is silver blue ? A. No. 

Q. Is it red? A. No. 

Q. What is its color ? A. Don 't know. 

A more familiar color of a very familiar object was 
then asked : 

Q. What is the color of grass ? A. Green. 

Q. What is the color of gold? Patient kept on repeat- 
ing the word "gold" many times, as if one trying hard to 
recall but did not succeed. 

Q. Is gold blue ? A. No. 

Q. Is it green? A. No. 

Q. Is it yellow ? A. Yes ; oh, yes ! 

In many nervous diseases where the advanced stages 
are characterized by complete loss of the muscular sense 
and of kinsesthesis, the early stages present phenomena of 
rise of threshold. This can be verified in the initiatory 
stages of tabes. Thus in an interesting case that came 
under my observation, the patient for about the course of 
two years revealed no other symptoms, except severe 
attacks of periodic nausea and vomiting, and on an exam- 
ination revealed no sensori-motor derangements indicative 
of any lesion as of the active progress of a pathological 
process. A closer examination, however, by the method 
of minimal impressions revealed a great rise of the thresh- 
old for kinassthesis in the toes. The case was afterward 
regarded to be one of tabes. I may add, by the way, that 
the method of minimal impressions in relation to the rise 
of thresholds can be used in many forms of nervous dis- 
eases from a purely practical diagnostic stand-point, the 
method being all the more valuable in the initiatory stages 
of the malady. 

In hypnosis and trance states the moment thresholds 
are often found reduced. The fall of the thresholds in 
these subconscious states gives rise to an extreme condi- 



302 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tion of hyperesthesia. This hyperesthesia is by no means 
of an organic character, but purely of a functional psy- 
chopathic nature. In other words, the hypnotic hyperes- 
thesia is not at all due to a modification within the periph- 
eral sense-organs, but simply and solely to a lowering of 
the moment thresholds of the more complex and higher 
constellations of moment aggregates. Stimuli of minimal 
intensity, which in the waking state cannot overstep the 
higher thresholds of the higher constellations of moment 
aggregates, constituting the personal self-consciousness of 
the individual, are enabled to do so when the trance state 
is induced and the moment thresholds are lowered. The 
impressions are subconsciously present, but can only enter 
consciousness or self-consciousness through the medium of 
trance states. To this effect I have carried out a series of 
experiments, varying them in all possible ways, but with 
the same result, — apparently unperceived stimuli during 
the waking state are still present subconsciously and be- 
come manifested with the induction of subconscious states. 
The hypnotic subject, when in a very deep trance, is often 
highly hyperesthetic, his discrimination becoming very 
acute. The subject's eye can perceive a difference, when 
no other eye can see any; his ear can detect the slightest 
difference in apparently similar sounds; the hand can 
recognize and identify objects in all their details by the 
slightest and most superficial touch. This fact of hyper- 
esthesia in trance can be verified by anyone who has car- 
ried on extensive experiments in hypnosis and has had 
subjects who could be submerged into the deeper subcon- 
scious regions. In other words, moment thresholds are 
lowered in hypnosis, minimal and subminimal stimulations 
give rise to psychic processes which become assimilated in 
the moment aggregate. 

Furthermore, experiences received subconsciously come 
to the surface with the induction of hypnosis and of trance 
states. The thresholds having become lowered, subcon- 



ABNORMAL MENTAL LIFE 303 

scious experiences are enabled to overstep them and be- 
come assimilated in the functioning moment aggregate. 
This holds true not only of subconsciously received experi- 
ences, but also of such experiences that have been so deeply 
submerged into the subconscious as to be beyond the reach 
of self-consciousness. In the deepest stages of hypnosis, 
as well as in similar trance states induced by other means, 
memories are often revived that have fallen altogether out 
of the grasp of the individual. In short, subconscious 
moment aggregates manifested in hypnosis and trance 
states have lower thresholds. 



CHAPTER XIII 

MEMORY LAPSES AND THE SUBCONSCIOUS 

Disaggregation of moments becomes clearly manifested 
in the phenomena of amnesia. When a moment becomes 
dissociated from the principal functioning constellation, 
the life of the moment is degraded, falling into the subcon- 
scious region of mental life. If the content of the moment 
has not become completely disintegrated, but has only fallen 
to lower and lower types, it may by different methods be 
evoked from these obscure regions of mental activity. 

Among these different methods those of hypnotization 
and of hypnoidization are of the utmost importance. The 
different methods of hypnotization have been so often dis- 
cussed that there is no need to describe them here. The 
method of hypnoidization, however, is not so well known, 
and a short description given in a former work of mine 
will answer the purpose. 1 

The difference between the method of hypnoidization 
and that of hypnotization is the manifestation of the sub- 
merged moment. In hypnotization, the submerging mo- 
ment stands revealed as a whole ; in hypnoidization, the 
moment appears in parts and synthesis is effected in the 
functioning moment consciousness. Hypnotization has the 
great drawback that the patient is not always willing to 
be put into hypnosis, nor is it easy with all cases to reach 
that deep level of subconsciousness to which the dissociated 
moment has fallen. Hypnoidization, on the other hand, 
though having the drawback of breaking up the moment's 
content and laying bare fragments of it, has the great 

1 See Sidis, Psychology of Suggestion. 
304 



MEMORY LAPSES 305 

advantage of dispensing with the state of hypnosis; the 
method can be used while the patient is in his waking state. 

Hypnoidization, in fact, often proves to be superior and 
far more effective than hypnosis. The synthesis effected 
through the intermediary states which are closely allied 
to the hypnoidal, proves to be more stable than that 
brought about through hypnotization. In the case of 
D. F., the dissociated states synthetized in hypnosis became 
once more disaggregated in the waking state and fell again 
into the subconscious regions and could only attain per- 
manent stability when the synthesis was effected through 
those intermediary states, of which the hypnoidal states 
constitute one variety. The H. case, one of double con- 
sciousness; the M. case, which would be characterized as 
"psychic epilepsy"; the P. case, one of alcoholic amnesia, 
and many other minor cases, have been worked far more 
successfully through intermediary states, and especially 
through hypnoidal states. 1 

As an illustration of the dissolution of moments and 
the discovery of their presence in the lower levels of con- 
sciousness, or in the subconsciousness, the following case 
may be cited: 

In the "Arch, de Neurol." for 1894, J. Seglas and 
Bonnus report an interesting case of amnesia which may 
be considered as typical and of which we give here a brief 
account : 

The patient is 19 years old. In her sixteenth year she 
had nervous attacks. On the 5th of June, 1894, she was 
brought to Salpetriere for great disturbances of memory. 
Examination revealed the following symptoms: Total an- 
aesthesia of the skin and of the mucous membranes, limita- 
tion of the field of vision, disturbances of the color-sense. 
As to the disturbances of memory, the patient lost all 
reminiscences for all that she had lived through since the 
26th of May, 1894. Patient remembers, however, that she 

1 See Sidis, Psychopathological Besearches. 
21 



306 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

has had a violent emotion on this day ; a gendarme came to 
her and served her official summons. From this point of 
time she remembers nothing at all. She lost all capacity 
for synthetizing new experiences in her narrowed moment 
of self -consciousness. Now, when the patient's eyes and 
ears were closed, she rapidly fell into a sleep-like state; 
it was not the normal sleep ; it was rather a somnambulic 
state. In this state the lost memories and sensibilities re- 
turned. This we should expect from the stand-point of our 
theory of dissociation; the lost sensibility and experiences 
were present to the subconscious moments. 

To take another example : In one of my cases, in that of 
R. C, the dissociated memories were brought out in hyp- 
noidal states. The patient, otherwise a strong and healthy 
man, but extremely sensitive and nervous, used to fall into 
subconscious states preceded by what may be termed a 
sensory aura, this being uniformly a sensation of green. 
The subconscious state lasted from about half an hour to an 
hour and more, the patient often becoming violent, having 
hallucinations, making attempts to assault his sister-in-law 
in the presence of his wife and bystanders ; fighting people, 
beating cruelly his best friends, and even attempting in a 
fit of violent anger to throw out through the window his 
own little baby, whom in his normal state he greatly loves 
and adores. When the subconscious state works itself off 
and gradually approaches its termination, the patient be- 
comes exhausted and falls into a deep sleep, which some- 
times lasts as long as fifteen hours or more. On emerging 
from this sleep, the patient remembers nothing of what had 
taken place during the subconscious state. The memories, 
however, were not lost; they were present subconsciously 
and were brought to light by the induction of hypnoidal 
states. A full history of the patient's actions and doings 
during some of his subconscious states was given by his 
relatives, who watched him closely. This history helped to 
verify the patient's own account given by him in his hyp- 



MEMORY LAPSES 307 

noidal states. Sometimes a cue had to be given to the 
patient and then memories emerged slowly in bits and 
fragments, finally becoming synthetized, the patient's con- 
sciousness of the sequence of events being reconstructed and 
fully recollected. Once the dissociated states became syn- 
thetized in the patient's principal moment consciousness, 
they were reduced both in content and intensity of activ- 
ity. The interest lies in the fact that disaggregation of 
moments gives rise to certain forms of what may be called 
psychopathic amnesia and may be found present in the 
subconscious, from which, under certain conditions, they 
may emerge and become synthetized in the principal mo- 
ment consciousness. 

Another case of mine, that of F., is very similar to that 
of R. C, the chief difference being the absence of aura, 
of violence, and of prolonged sleep after the emergence 
from the subconscious states. The subconscious state does 
not set in suddenly, develops gradually, is not violent, 
and lasts for a few days. On the return to the normal 
state the memories of the subconscious state are found to 
be missing and are apparently obliterated. This oblitera- 
tion, however, is more apparent than real. The memories 
could be recalled in hypnoidal states. Experiences passed 
through during states of disaggregation are present only in 
the synthesis of the simpler systems. With the reinstate- 
ment, therefore, of the higher or more complex disaggre- 
gated systems, events and actions passed through during 
the state of disaggregation will not belong to the experi- 
ences constituting the content of the higher moment con- 
sciousness. The higher moments, on account of their 
absence during the state of disaggregation, have no mem- 
ory for the experiences of lower moments. A dissociated 
moment consciousness can remember only its own experi- 
ences. 

When the higher moment of self -consciousness becomes 
disaggregated and a lower type of moment takes its place, a 



308 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

break occurs between the two moments, the experience of 
the lower moment is not transmitted to the higher mo- 
ment. The higher moment lacks the experience passed 
through by the lower moment, and the result is amnesia. 
This is well illustrated by the amnesic states that often ac- 
company intense emotional states, great exhaustion, toxic 
conditions, epileptic attacks and intense stimulations in 
general. 



CHAPTER XIV 

HYPNOIDIC STATES OR RESURRECTED LIVES 

Hypnoidic states consist in the recurrence of outlived 
phases of the patient's personal life. The hypnoidic state, 
when it occurs, forms a complete and distinct individuality, 
the upper consciousness of the patient being removed. 
Memories, which the upper self is unable to recall and 
which seem to be altogether effaced, suddenly arise to the 
surface of consciousness as the upper layers of mental 
activity are removed. The hypnoidic state differs from 
hypnosis. In hypnosis, the removal of the waking con- 
sciousness is followed by a state of high reflex suggesti- 
bility, which is characteristic of the indefinite nature of the 
secondary self. In the hypnoidic state, such suggestibility 
is absent, because another quasi-personality emerges, hav- 
ing a more or less definite character, a personality which is 
often not amenable to direct suggestion. By means of 
indirect suggestion, however, it is possible to remove this 
personality and replace it by another, which may again 
be treated in the same way. 

In hypnoidic states, the sense-organs are closed to the 
impressions of external stimuli; the patient does not per- 
ceive what goes on about him; his hallucinatory or "vis- 
ionary" environment relates to the past. If by chance 
any impressions reach the patient, they are worked into 
his present "visionary" experience. The patient hears 
nothing of the conversation going on about him, and does 
not reply when spoken to on subjects not relating to his 
resurrected life experiences. He only replies to questions 

309 



310 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

relating to the experiences through which he is at that 
time passing. His replies are to the thoughts awakened 
within the present active subconscious moment, or in 
very rare cases he seems to converse with some persons 
appearing to him as present in the hypnoidic state. On 
awakening from the hypnoidic state, the patient clearly re- 
calls the events of his "vision," but cannot recognize them 
as experiences of his past life. He does not remember, how- 
ever, any of the answers which he was induced to give. It 
is only what occurred spontaneously in his visions and 
which was a faithful reproduction of his past experiences 
that is remembered with even an extraordinary distinct- 
ness. 

The hypnoidic personality is of an unstable nature, and 
left to itself, tends to disappear and fall back within the 
depths of the subconscious regions. The hypnoidic person- 
ality, however, is in closer contact with subconscious life 
than is the waking self. The former possesses experiences 
and memories of which the upper self is quite ignorant. 

We find here a more or less systematized association of 
clusters and constellations of moment consciousness, dis- 
sociated from the main stream of personal life and not syn- 
thetized within the principal moment of self-consciousness. 
These dissociated moments emerge to the surface of men- 
tal life at regular or irregular intervals. In other words, 
clusters and constellations that have been split off from 
the main aggregation or rather organization of collec- 
tively functioning clusters and constellations of moments, 
under favorable circumstances, especially when the princi- 
pal organization of constellations is "inhibited," emerge 
to the light of day and become active, their activity 
being manifested in the phenomena of hypnoidic states. 
The well-known case of Dr. Mesnet's may be taken as a 
good illustration. I quote from Dr. Mesnet's account: 

"F , 27 years of age, sergeant in the army of 

Africa, received, in one of the battles preceding Sedan, a 



RESURRECTED LIVES 311 

bullet wound, which fractured the left parietal bone. The 
ball, fired obliquely, made a wound eight or ten centimetres 
in length, parallel to and about two centimetres below the 
temporal suture. At the time he received the wound, 

F had still enough power to overturn with a bayonet 

thrust the Prussian soldier who attacked him, but almost 
at that instant his right arm became paralyzed, and he was 
obliged to abandon his weapon and make his escape from 
the conflagration and the storm of balls which rained down 
on the village of Bazeilles. He was able to proceed about 
two hundred metres, when his right leg also became par- 
alyzed, and he lost all consciousness. It was only after the 
lapse of three weeks that he recovered his senses, when he 
found himself in Mayence, whither he had been transported 
by a Prussian ambulance. 

"At this period the right hemiplegia was complete, the 
loss of motion absolute. Six months later he was taken to 
France, and was an inmate of various military hospitals in 
Paris, the paralysis continuing about a year. Nevertheless, 
he recovered. 

"He suffered, however, from attacks of abnormal states, 
during which the general sensibility was completely extin- 
guished. The muscular sensibility is preserved. Hearing, 
smell and taste are sealed against any impressions from 
without. Sight yields only vague impressions. The sense 
of touch persists, and seems to acquire delicacy and an ex- 
aggerated impressibility. 

"The activity of F is nearly the same during his 

attack as in his normal condition, with the exception that 
motion is less rapid; he moves about with open eyes and 
a fixed gaze; if he is directed against an obstruction, he 
strikes against it slightly and turns to one side ; whether it 
may be a tree, a chair, a bench, a man, or a woman, it is 
nothing more to him than an obstacle, the character of 
which he does not recognize. He appears like a pigeon 
whose cerebral cortex has been removed ; and still he lives 



312 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

in a world of his own. Thus he was promenading in the 
garden, under a grove of trees, when someone put back 
into his hand the cane which he had let fall a few moments 
previously. He felt for it, turned his hand several times 
around the curved handle of the cane, became attentive, 
seemed to listen, and suddenly cried out, 'Henri!' then, 
' There they are ! There are at least twenty of them to the 
two of us! We shall get the better of them!' and then, 
carrying his hand behind his back as if to get a cartridge, 
he went through the movements of loading his musket, 
crouched at full length in the grass, concealing his head 
behind a tree, in the posture of a sharpshooter, and follow- 
ing with his gun at his shoulder all the movements of the 
enemy. 

"On another occasion he came across the handle of a 
drawer; opening it, he took up a pen; he began to ransack 
the drawer, taking out and placing on the table several 
sheets of paper, and also an inkstand. He then sat down 
and commenced a letter, in which he recommended himself 
to his commanding officer for his good conduct and bravery, 
and made an application for the military medal. As he 
kept on writing, the page was withdrawn, but he remained 
disconcerted and terminated on the third sheet the line com- 
menced on the preceding, continuing from the exact point 
where his pen was placed. We took away successively, and 
in the same manner, the third sheet, then the fourth, and 
arrived at the fifth ; he signed his name at the bottom of the 
page, when everything that he had written had disappeared 
with the preceding sheets. We saw him then turn his eyes 
toward the top of this blank page, read over all that he had 
written, giving a movement of the lips to each word ; while at 
various times he made with his pen, in different places on 
this blank page, here a comma, there an e, at another place 
a t, following out carefully the orthography of each word 
and correcting them to the best of his ability; each one of 
these corrections corresponding to an incomplete word, 



RESURRECTED LIVES 313 

which we found at the same height and the same distance 
on the sheets of which we ourselves had possession. 

"On completing the letter he went into the garden, 
where he took from his pocket a book of cigarette paper, 
opened it, and detached a leaf from it; then took out his 
tobacco and rolled a cigarette with the dexterity of one 
who is accustomed to this proceeding. He searched for his 
match-box, lighted his cigarette with a match, which, fall- 
ing still burning upon the ground, he extinguished by 
placing his foot upon it. 

"This first cigarette terminated, he prepared to smoke 
another, when we stepped up and began to interpose ob- 
stacles. He held a fresh sheet of paper in his hand, ready 
to receive the tobacco, and he searched vainly in his pocket 
for his tobacco, as we had filched it. He searched for it in 
another pocket, going through all his clothes until he came 
back to look for it in the first pocket, when his face ex- 
pressed surprise. I offered him his tobacco-pouch, but he 
did not perceive it ; I held it near his eyes, yet he still did 
not perceive it; even when I shook it just in front of his 
nose, he did not notice it. But when I placed it in contact 
with his hand, he seized it and completed his cigarette di- 
rectly. Just as he was about to light the cigarette with one 
of his matches, I blew it out and offered him instead a 
lighted match which I held in my own hand; he did not 
perceive it ; I brought it so close to his eyes as to singe a few 
lashes, yet he still did not perceive it ; neither did he make 
the slightest motion of blinking. He lighted another match, 
when I blew it out and offered him one of mine, with the 
same indifference resulting on his part as before. I brought 
it in contact with the cigarette which he was holding in his 
mouth, but even when I burned the tobacco of his cigarette 
he did not notice it. 

"On another occasion, he appeared to look for his but- 
tonhole bouquet, noticed his ribbon of the military medal, 
and appeared satisfied. He nimbly descended the stairway 



314 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

which he daily frequented, traversed the court of the hos- 
pital with the air of a man of business, and went toward 
the gate of exit. Arrived there, I prevented his passage 
and turned his back to the gate; he allowed this without 
any resistance, and then started off in the new direction I 
had given him, and, in groping about, entered the lodge of 
the doorkeeper, which opened into the hall where we 
were. 

"At this moment the sun lit up with a bright ray a glass 
window that closed the lodge on the side toward the court. 
He seemed to be not at all insensible to the brilliancy of this 
ray, which probably caused him an illusion of vision, by 
bringing forward a sensation in keeping with the idea he 
had in his mind. This ray must have given him the impres- 
sion of a footlight, for he at once placed himself before it, 
readjusted his toilette, opened the roll of paper which he 
carried in his hand, and softly hummed an air, running his 
eyes over the pages as he slowly turned them, and marking 
with his hand a measure that was perfectly rhythmical; 
then he sang aloud, in a highly agreeable manner. When 
he got out of this state he was like one awakening from a 
deep sleep or from a state of unconsciousness." 

This remarkable case of Dr. Mesnet was utilized by 
Huxley for the purpose of supporting by facts from mental 
pathology his theory that mental processes, even of a highly 
complex character, could be carried on in a purely auto- 
matic way without the least interference of consciousness. 
The mental-like processes can be performed without the 
least spark of consciousness. This, according to Huxley, 
is true not only of the poor automaton, the soldier, but also 
of animal and man in the perfect normal state. The mind 
has absolutely no influence whatever on our life and actions, 
not any more than the whistle has on the movements of the 
steam-engine. The mind, like the whistle, is a by-product. 
Mesnet regards this ease as one of pure automatism, and 
he describes the case on the theory that all the actions of 



RESURRECTED LIVES 315 

the patient are of a purely mechanical nature, without the 
least presence of consciousness. 

A closer analysis reveals the fact that Mesnet himself 
does not strictly adhere to this point of view. The facts 
flatly contradict it; the very language he uses in describ- 
ing the phenomena is saturated with psychological terms 
and concepts based on psychic experience. A few instances 
will suffice for our purpose. The patient could perceive his 
own match when lighted, but could not see that of others. 
This is hardly a mechanical relationship of a light stimulus 
to nervous activity ; it is one of personal selection of stimuli. 
From a purely physical stand-point, a match, as a match, 
does not differ in its actions and effects whether it is mine 
or yours. Again, when a stick was put into the patient's 
hand, he passed through a series of complex hallucinations, 
as if he were living over his war experiences, attacking his 
enemies or hiding from them. On another occasion, he 
seems to look for his sheets of music, and when a roll of 
paper is put into his hands a new hallucinatory state de- 
velops — he lives over his experiences as an actor and singer 
on the stage — he sings and acts before an imaginary audi- 
ence. Under the proper suggestion he could write letters 
recommending himself to his superiors. When the paper 
is withdrawn, he looks up with surprise, continues writing 
on the next pages; and when the letter is finished on the 
different sheets of paper, he makes corrections on the hal- 
lucinatory letter. Surely all these facts and many others 
of the same character clearly indicate that the patient 
lived in a hallucinatory world of his own. Moment by 
moment the soldier lived over his past life, not in memory, 
but in recurrent sensory experience. The patient, like the 
dreamer, lived in his own world en rapport only with him- 
self. The states are essentially hypnoidic in character and 
are of the same type as found in the Hanna case, when 
the patient lived through his former life in the form of 
intense sensory experience. 



316 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

The hypnoidic states, as I have pointed out, arise from 
the depth of the subconscious and pass through the cycle 
of their former life. Arising, though, as they do, under 
the influence of external stimuli, they themselves, as psy- 
chic tracts, are independent of the external environment. 
In fact, the stimuli act simply as mere suggestions. A 
roll of paper recalls experiences of theatre, the singing 
of birds revives experiences of mountain climbing. The 
hypnoidic states are detached, dissociated moments; they 
come and go without leaving a trace behind them. These 
disaggregated moments consciousness partake of the char- 
acter of embryonic secondary personalities, and as such 
belong to the category of multiple personality. 

The hypnoidic personality is extremely unstable, and 
when left to itself tends to disintegrate. As pointed out 
in my book, "The Psychology of Suggestion," the hyp- 
noidic personality tends to vanish as soon as it goes through 
in an abridged form the cycle of its existence. The follow- 
ing cases worked by me in my laboratory, with the assist- 
ance of Dr. H. Linenthal, may be regarded as typical of the 
resurrected lives of the hypnoidic personalities : 

Mr. R., a man of fifty, well developed and well pre- 
served. Has never had any serious illness except an acute 
attack of rheumatism some years ago. He is a business 
man and does not impress one as a neurotic. He is, on the 
contrary, very phlegmatic, a calm, calculating business 
man. He complains of a tremor in his hands, which be- 
comes worse when he is doing something. His writing is 
illegible. When carrying a glass of water to his mouth, his 
hand shakes so much that the water spills over. This 
tremor, he tells us, he has had for eight years or so ; it has 
been coming on gradually, but is getting worse now. He is 
ashamed to come among people on account of this trouble. 
He cannot give any definite time of the onset of the 
tremor. When asked what he attributes the tremor to, he 
says it is due to a good deal of worry. When asked about 



RESURRECTED LIVES 317 

his dreams, he said that they were rather pleasant; all 
about gaining money. 

An examination proved the patient normal in all other 
respects. 

Mr. R. was put into deep hypnosis. He was asked: 
"Can you tell us the exact conditions and the time when 
you first perceived the tremor?" "Yes." "When was 
it?" "It was on the day my wife died. The nurse came 
in to me from the sick room and told me that my wife was 
dead. I then noticed for the first time that my hands were 
shaking violently. " " Do you have any dreams ? " " Yes. ' ' 
' ' What are they ? ' ' Here followed a long series of dreams 
which he related one after another, localizing each dream 
more or less definitely in time. 

All the dreams related to his dead wife. He frequently 
dreams that she comes to his bedside dressed in white and 
cries bitterly, bemoaning his fate that he is so wretched 
and is left all alone in the world. He has all kinds of 
fanciful combinations of dreams in which his wife is the 
principal figure. He dreams, for instance, of her coming 
to life again, of his living with her for several years and 
then losing her again. These dreams, he tells us, excite 
him greatly; he is thrown into convulsions during his 
sleep, and frequently shakes so much that he is thrown out 
of bed. All these dreams are completely forgotten in the 
morning. 

The scene while the patient related these dreams was 
pathetic in the extreme. While recalling these sad dream- 
experiences, he seemed to live them through again ; he was 
convulsed with sobs, tears were flowing from his eyes, and 
his features indicated the most intense suffering and an- 
guish. There was a complete transformation of his per- 
sonality. The waking Mr. R. was different from the hyp- 
notic Mr. R. as any two individuals can possibly differ. 
The former is a phlegmatic, calm, calculating business 
man, having no room in his mind for anything else except 



318 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

business, talking of nothing else but business worries and 
money matters. Mr. R. in the hypnotic state is trans- 
formed. We no longer have before us a business man of 
fifty. We see before us a childlike soul displaying a most 
intense human emotion, a soul most intensely yearning 
for a lost beloved companion. All business is completely 
forgotten; not a mention is made of money. 

To take another interesting case, 1 worked by me with 
Dr. Morton Prince and Dr. H. Linenthal: Mr. M., 21 
years of age, Russian, came to this country four years 
ago. He is an intelligent young fellow, has never been 
ill; has very good habits. The patient was referred to 
me by Dr. K. M. Davidson, of Boston, for epileptiform 
attacks on the right side of the body, of which he gave 
the following history: 

About five years ago, when 16 years of age, he attended 
a ball in his native town. After midnight, he was sent 
out to look for a ring which the lady whom he accom- 
panied had lost on the way. While searching for the 
ring he had to pass near a cemetery, and got frightened, 
as it seemed to him that someone was running after 
him. He fell down and was picked up in an unconscious 
condition and brought home. He could not tell what 
happened during his fall or on which side he fell. For 
a week he was confined to bed, suffering from spasms 
on the right side. The spasms consisted of rhythmical 
shaking of the head, of the right hand and right leg. The 
whole right side was paralyzed and anaesthetic. Since then 
the attacks set on periodically about once a year, they come 
about the same time in the year, and begin about midnight. 
During last year, however, he had four attacks. 

Two weeks after his last attack he was referred to us. 
On examination the following phenomena were observed: 
The patient was still affected on the right side, so that he 
was not sensitive to any form of sensation, such as touch, 

1 Published in the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal, June 23, 1904. 



RESURRECTED LIVES 319 

pain, smell, sight, hearing and taste, the left side being 
fully normal. He could not tell anything about his dream 
life; he has ordinary dreams. 

Though the patient is insensitive on the right side, still 
it is possible to show that his subconsciousness perceives 
what his upper consciousness has lost. If the patient is 
made to look into a glass of water with a light reflected in 
it, and if his right limb is touched ever so lightly, he sees 
in the glass a visual hallucination of the number of impres- 
sions in the symbolic form of a written numeral. The same 
holds true in the case of letters, words and objects im- 
pressed ever so lightly on his insensitive skin. In fact, the 
patient manifests an extreme acuity of the senses in the 
subconscious regions. The hallucinations symbolic of im- 
pressions of another sense, when projected on a screen, 
could be outlined by him, so vivid were they to the patient. 

Mr. M. was then put into hypnotic state. He goes into 
deep somnambulism. In this state he tells us that during 
the attacks he keeps on dreaming about the fright, fall, and 
about his illness. In short, he lives the same original ex- 
perience over again in his subconscious dream life. While 
examining him during trance, we happened to call atten- 
tion to his angesthesia. Suddenly, as if by the wand of a 
magician, his present personality disappeared from view 
and the old personality of the accident emerged. Mr. M. 
went into one of his attacks, living over the same period of 
his life in Russia. He ceased to understand English and 
was carried back to his sixteenth year. He cried out in 
great agony, as of one frightened to death, squirmed and 
twitched and began to shake. "What happened to you?" 
we asked. "I fell down," he exclaimed in his native jar- 
gon; "I got frightened." He then passed through the 
movements and shaking characteristic of the attacks. 
When asked where he was, he answered, "At home." 
' ' With whom are you now V " With my mamma. ' ' When 
the attack ceased, with a shudder, he literally came to him- 



320 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

self, his present personality returned, and on our question, 
"Where are you now?" he promptly replied, "At the 
doctor's." 

In this somnambulic state a whole series of outlived 
and long ago subconsciously buried personalities could be 
resurrected from their sleep and be made once more to 
appear in the light of the upper consciousness, each per- 
sonality having its own chain of memories and peculiar 
traits of character, but each time, as the sixteenth year 
personality was resurrected, the typical attack developed 
with automatic regularity, like a wound-up clock. 

The following case of my own may be taken, like the 
previous ones, as a striking example of hypnoidic states in 
dream consciousness and of their effects on waking life: 

Mrs. A. is 22 years old; Russian; pretty, intelligent, 
and rather emotional; married; came to me on May 28, 
1902. She suffers periodically from attacks of violent 
headaches, lasting several days. Family history is good, 
parents are alive, and never suffered from any physical or 
mental diseases. 

Mrs. A. is very nervous ; she is easily frightened and has 
suffered from headaches and pressure on head for quite a 
long time, but the pain became exacerbated some five 
years ago. The attack is sudden, without any premonitory 
feelings, and lasts from eight hours to two days. The head- 
ache often sets on at night, when she is asleep, and she 
wakes up with frightful pain. At the time of the first at- 
tack she was very much run down. Patient is otherwise in 
good condition, but complains that her memory is getting 
bad. Patellar reflex exaggerated. Field of vision normal. 
The eyes show slight strabismus and astigmatism, corrected 
by glasses, that did not, however, in the least diminish the 
intensity as well as the frequency of the headaches. 

Mrs. A. suffers from bad dreams and distressing night- 
mares, the content of which she cannot recall in her waking 
state. She also often has hallucinations, visions of two 



RESURRECTED LIVES 321 

women wrapped in white, pointing their fingers at her and 
running after her. She never had any fall, nor any special 
worry or anxiety; never suffered from any infectious dis- 
ease. After a persistent inquiry, however, she gave an 
account of an accident she met with when a child of eight. 
Opposite her house there lived an insane woman of whom 
she was mortally afraid. Once, when the parents hap- 
pened to be away, the insane woman entered the house 
and caught the child in her arms and greatly frightened 
her. Another time she was sent out by her parents to buy 
something in a grocery store. It was night and very dark ; 
she bought the things, but on the way back she saw two 
women in white with hands stretched out running after 
her. She screamed from great fright and ran home. 

Mrs. A. is very much afraid to remain alone, and espe- 
cially in the dark. She is not afraid so much in the street 
as in the house. The two women appear to her now and 
then, and she is mortally afraid of them. 

Mrs. A. was put into hypnotic state. There was 
marked catalepsy; the eyes were firmly closed and she 
could not open them when challenged. Suggestion of gen- 
eral well-being was given and she was awakened. On 
awakening, she could not remember what had taken place 
in the hypnotic state. 

Next day she was again put into hypnosis and went into 
a deeper state than the day before. When asked whether 
she thought of the crazy woman occasionally, she replied in 
the negative. The patient spoke in a low, suppressed voice, 
the words coming out slowly, as if with effort and with fear. 
It was then insisted that she should tell one of her recent 
dreams. After some pause, she said : "Last night I had a 
bad dream ; I dreamed that I stood near a window and a cat 
came up to the same window ; I saw it was ' cra2y. ' I ran 
away; the cat ran after me and bit me and scratched me. 
Then I knew that I was crazy. My friends said that there 
was no help for me. I dropped the baby, ran, and jumped 
22 



322 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

downstairs. I remember now that when I fell asleep I saw 
a woman, maybe it was the crazy woman. I covered my- 
self ; I knew I was only afraid and that she was not real. 
Six weeks ago I saw the same woman, when falling asleep 
or when asleep; I ran away and she ran after me and 
wanted to catch me." Mrs. A., in relating these dreams, 
shivered all over and was much afraid, as if actually living 
the dream experience over again. ' ' It was this woman who 
caught me in her arms and kissed me and embraced me and 
did not let me go until my screams brought friends and my 
father and they took me away from her by force. ' ' 

Gradually some more dreams emerged. ' ' I dreamed some 
time ago that the woman came to me and spilled hot water 
on me. Another time I dreamed I was in the insane asylum ; 
she came out, told me she was well; I was greatly fright- 
ened and ran away. ' ' Mrs. A. then remained quiet. After 
a while she began to relate a series of dreams. Some time 
ago she dreamed that the woman entered the room where 
her father was and ran up to him, evidently with the inten- 
tion of hurting him. Her father ran away and she hid 
herself in a closet in the next room. "I also dreamed that 
the woman was shadowing me in an alley. She wanted 
to get hold of me, while I tried to get away from her. I 
turned round, and she gave me such a fierce look. It was 
so fierce. I ran. She could not catch me. I should die 
if she catches me. ' ' Mrs. A. shivered. ' ' Are you afraid of 
her ? " " Not now, she is not here. I did not dream of the 
woman much before, but some time before my marriage I 
began to dream of her quite often. In one of my dreams 
about her I saw people putting cold water on her, and I 
could hear her scream. It was awful! I dreamed I went 
upstairs, opened the door and met her face to face. I was 
badly frightened, but I could not run away, so I jumped 
out of the window. If I could only not dream about her ! ' ' 

A very rich subconscious dream life was thus revealed, 
a life of which the patient was totally ignorant in her wak- 



RESURRECTED LIVES 323 

ing state. The dreams referred to the same central nucleus, 
the shock of her early childhood. These dreams gave rise to 
intense states of fear and agony. ' ' Some time when I dream 
I feel something in my head ; some pain. ' ' The dreams oc- 
cur between 11 at night and 4 in the morning. After the 
dream Mrs. A. is afraid to get up in the morning and feels 
greatly disturbed by her dream experience. 

"Sometimes I dream that a big black lady stands near 
me and is ready to attack me.\' ' Mrs. A. could not continue 
the account of her dreams, as it set up in her an intense 
emotional disturbance. "Once a year I must dream about 
her. I dream that at least once a year I have to dream 
about the woman." 

"When Mrs. A. was fully quiet and felt well, some more 
dreams came up. ' ' Once I dreamed that I had my baby in 
my arms and the woman entered the room; I got fright- 
ened ; I could not run away ; I tore my dress. The woman 
said she would not hurt my baby; that she would like to 
talk to the baby. My husband came in. She petted me and 
then it seemed that I fainted ; I do not know. 

"I dreamed many times that I was crazy; I screamed 
and cried and everybody was afraid of me. As soon as I 
wake up I forget the dream. I am, however, quite sure of 
being crazy while I dream. I often dream of crazy cats 
and mad dogs attacking me. Sometimes I dream of going 
up a big, big mountain, and then roll down a precipice, 
where there are horrible people, some kind of devils, who 
crowd around me, grinning and laughing loudly. They 
are like crazy people, mad devils." 

At this point I asked the patient while in the deep 
hypnotic state to give a complete account of the insane 
woman who seemed to have played such an important role 
in Mrs. A.'s life. 

"The insane woman was the wife of a minister; I now 
remember that she once told my mother that when still a 
young girl she became insane and that she was taken to a 



324 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

magician, who cured her by some powerful charms. She 
then married and was very much distressed by the fact 
that her husband did not permit her to wear the charm 
given to her by the magician. The woman became insane 
while she was in our house and was very violent. One of 
those horrible devils so violent looks just like her. I re- 
member she told my mother that she had two children and 
that in her dream two women wrapped in white came to 
her and asked her to give them her children 's clothes. She 
gave away the clothes and that is why the children soon 
died. I was afraid very much that the women in white 
should come to me, and I often dream of them. I do not 
believe in it, but some time in my dreams I am afraid of 
them. I am afraid that they will come, and when they 
come I get frightened to death." In telling her dreams, 
and especially the history of the woman, the patient spoke 
in a suppressed voice, as if choked by tears and mental 
anguish. She kept the hands folded on her breast, and 
when I tried to separate them and have them hang down 
or lie by her side she resisted it, as if it was a matter of 
life and death to her. "I am afraid; I don't like to keep 
my hands down. She may come from below and catch me 
by the hand ; I always keep my hands folded on my breast ; 
when I go to sleep I do not want her to catch my hand." 
Mrs. A. began to shiver from fright, keeping the hands 
closer to her body. It was then insisted that she must not 
be afraid, while she was in the hypnotic state. 

A further attempt was made to obtain some more 
dreams as soon as the patient was quieted down. 

"I have dreamed so many years of meeting her that I 
am also afraid at daytime. It is foolish, but I am afraid. ' ' 
She again became quiet. A suggestion was then given to 
her not to be afraid now, in hypnosis. Mrs. A. could not 
remember any other dreams. After a while some more 
dreams began to emerge. 

"The woman tried to take my baby away from me. I 



RESURRECTED LIVES 325 

got hold of a great big knife and defended my baby. I 
was taken to prison because I killed, and they took my baby 
away from me. It was so awful ! I was very tired when 
I woke up. I dreamed the woman came to me ; I thought 
she was well, but she suddenly became crazy. I am very 
much afraid now of a crazy person, and I am still more 
afraid in my dream. ' ' 

Mrs. A. stopped again. Soon more dreams gradually 
began to emerge, just as long-forgotten experiences sud- 
denly occur to the mind. Once the barrier is broken down 
or the threshold is lowered, the dreams come in groups and 
follow in quick succession. 

' ' I dreamed I was bathing and suddenly the woman ap- 
peared and took away my clothes ; I was very much fright- 
ened. The woman wanted me to go with her and promised 
to return the clothes. I ran into the water, away from the 
woman; wanted to drown myself; I could feel the water 
covering me all over; I must, have groaned aloud as my 
husband awakened me from this nightmare." 

The next dream that emerged referred far back to her 
early youth. "When a child I slept with my sister, and 
used to have many bad dreams. Used to see the crazy 
woman and also the two women wrapped up in white sheets 
with stretched hands coming after me." Mrs. A. is mor- 
tally afraid of the two women. They also come to her 
when she is fully awake. She often sees them in the dark. 
They are both of the same size. "I cannot see their faces, 
as they are wrapped up, but I can see their forms. They 
look like the two women of whom the insane woman used 
to speak. When a child of twelve, I saw them clearly; 
when sent by mother at night to go to a grocery store I had 
to pass the fence of a little garden ; I could see them quite 
plainly. They were wrapped in white sheets; their hands 
were also wrapped up, and they stretched them out toward 
me. I could feel my hands shake. I ran. When near the 
house I screamed and ran in. For a long time I was 



326 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

fearfully afraid. I think now it was a day-dream, but 
even now they seem to run after me, and I am afraid to 
turn around. Sometimes, in going upstairs in the dark, 
I feel their presence and can occasionally see them, but 
I am afraid to look long at them. I run from them as 
fast as I can." 

While relating these experiences, Mrs. A. kept her hands 
close to her body. "I want them near me; I am afraid. 

"When 12 years old I came to this country, and for 
some time the dreams did not trouble me ; I had no dreams 
about the woman or about the two women wrapped in 
white. I suppose because I thought they were far away, 
but then the dreams returned." 

The delusion of the insane woman long gone by has 
been transmitted to Mrs. A. as a visual hallucination. The 
headaches were the expression of the hypnoidic states 
about the insane woman. Association of these hallucina- 
tory hypnoidic states with the upper consciousness cured 
the headaches. 



CHAPTER XV 

HYPNOID STATES OE UNDERGROUND LIFE 

Hypnoid states consist of the presence of two or more 
fully independent moments consciousness, they are found in 
the phenomena of automatic writing, shell hearing, crystal 
gazing and various other psychopathic conditions. 

In automatic writing the patient is in his usual state. 
He may be carrying on a conversation with someone, while 
at the same time his hand, in which a pencil is placed, be- 
gins and continues writing sentences, descriptions or en- 
tire essays and chapters in a well-formulated and lucid 
manner, the subject's upper or principal consciousness 
knowing absolutely nothing of what the hand had written. 
During the time of the automatic writing, the hand is an- 
aesthetic, but only in relation to the subject's upper con- 
sciousness. There is evidently a well-organized system of 
consciousness controlling the automatic writing, since the 
hand itself may register responses to questions not under- 
stood, and sometimes not even heard by the subject. Like- 
wise, if the hand is pricked, although the subject does not 
feel the prick, the hand will nevertheless make marks to 
indicate the number of pricks. Immediately after the 
automatic writing ceases sensibility returns to the anaes- 
thetic hand. 

All forms of automatic writings are observed, from 
mere scratches to highly complicated discourses. In fully 
developed cases the handwriting is of a spasmodic charac- 
ter, as though executed with single, rapid strokes. 

Hypnoid or coexistent functioning dissociated states 

327 



328 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

may be cultivated by normal, healthy individuals with 
some success. In some the dissociation is complete, in 
others it is but partial, and the subject is conscious of 
what is going on, but he feels that he has no control over 
the writing nor is it his consciousness that has formulated 
the writing. Instead of writing, there may be automatic 
speaking. The phenomena are known under the name of 
"speaking with tongues." The speaking may range, as 
in the case of automatic writing, from the simplest to the 
most complex, from the automatic volubility of meaning- 
less syllables appearing as a new tongue or language to a 
connected recital of intelligible phrases. 

The phenomena of crystal gazing belong to the same 
category and may be classed with hypnoid states. The 
vision, the hallucinatory experience, appears to rise from 
the subconscious, and seems to develop independently of 
the subject's consciousness. The subject takes cognizance 
of what is presented to him by the dissociated mental state 
which develops on the basis of some peripheral sensory 
experience. 

Crystal gazing is analogous to automatic writing. The 
subconscious activity brings out visual perceptions which 
appear as hallucinations to the upper consciousness. The 
upper consciousness sees the pictures projected by the sub- 
conscious in the same way as the automatic writer reads 
the product of automatic writing. The subject may, for 
example, perform a certain action, such as misplacing an 
object or reading something unconsciously, and of which 
he has no recollection. Now the gazing into the crystal 
may bring out these past experiences as visual hallucina- 
tions. Occasionally the subconscious activity may so de- 
velop in the phenomena of automatic writing or crystal 
gazing that automatic actions may be manifested and the 
patient falls temporarily in a complete subconscious state. 

The phenomena of shell hearing belong to the same class 
as those of automatic writing, speaking and crystal gazing. 



HYPNOID STATES 329 

The shell seemingly reports to the listener facts and ob- 
servations lost to the subject's upper consciousness, but 
retained by the subconscious. 

In the many forms of psychopathic anaesthesia of con- 
siderable persistence and extent, hypnoid states may be 
developed; the anaesthetic hand, for instance, will react to 
various stimuli, handle different things, give intelligent 
answers in automatic writing to questions not directly 
heard by the patient. These phenomena can be brought 
out by various methods. 

Most of the cases of functional derangement due to 
mental dissociation fall under the category of hypnoid 
states. Various forms of sensory, motor, gastric, emo- 
tional and other disturbances, when of functional psycho- 
pathic character, in contradistinction to disturbances of 
functional neuropathic, neuropathic, and necrotic origin, 1 
are often due to subconscious systems dissociated from the 
patient's consciousness and manifesting their activity in 
the upper waking life. The patient is aware of the dis- 
tressing results, but has no suspicion of the active subcon- 
scious processes that give rise to such manifestations. The 
dissociated system forms a centre of activity that falls out- 
side the domain of the patient's upper consciousness, the 
results alone appearing in the patient's waking life. 

The hypnoid state really differs but little from the hyp- 
noidic — it is simply the hypnoidic personality working 
underground and showing its effects in waking life. The 
hypnoid is the hypnoidic state underground, while the hyp- 
noidic is the fully developed hypnoid state. A case may 
be regarded as hypnoidic or hypnoid, according to the 

1 By functional neuropathic, neuropathic proper, and necrotic are in- 
dicated the various stages in the pathological descending process of neuron 
disaggregation and cell degeneration in relation to neuron anabolism and 
katabolism. For a full discussion, see Sidis, Psychopathological Ee- 
searches, also Neuron Energy, Archives of Neurol, and Psychopathology, 
vol. i, 1898. 



330 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

view-point from which it is regarded. 1 Since these hypnoid 
states are of great importance, both from theoretical and 
practical stand-points, I take the liberty of giving here a 
more or less detailed account of a case studied by me and 
Dr. G. M. Parker : 

Mrs. B. C. came to us on April 18, 1903. 

Patient is German, age 29, well developed; married 
four years and has one child. She complains of having 
attacks of falling down and of vomiting; she becomes 
nauseated, weak, faint and dizzy, then falls down and 
vomits "greenish water," as she says. During the course 
of the attack patient is not unconscious; she hears and 
understands everything that is going on in the room, but 
her whole body is "benumbed" and she has no strength 
to get up. When she gets up there is a feeling of great 
exhaustion, has headache, and the vomiting keeps up 
two or three days. When the attack is setting on, all 
the extremities begin to tremble and she cannot stand 
on her legs. Patient does not complain of any sensory 
disturbances, nor of any pains in ears or eyes, but she 
sometimes suffers from buzzing in the ears. She complains 
that her memory is getting very much worse, she is becom- 
ing more and more depressed, cries often, is very irritable, 
sleeps badly and restlessly, talks in her sleep and some- 
times cries out, has very bad dreams, though she cannot 
remember the content of the dreams, as she forgets them 
soon after awakening. The interval of the attacks is from 
two to three weeks, but of late the interval is becoming 
much shorter, and she has them now as often as once or 
even twice a week. The attacks come on any time of the 
day and have no warning, no aura. The attacks set on 
soon after she came to this country. 

1 Janet, Breuer and Freud, Hajos and Kanshberg, hare done excellent 
work in this line. Work along the same lines of investigation has been 
done by me and my associates and published in a volume under the title 
Psychopathological Eesearches. 



HYPNOID STATES 331 

About a year ago she suffered from numerous visual 
hallucinations, such as seeing cats, dogs, always black in 
color. These hallucinations were seen in the left field 
toward the extreme periphery; they were seen with open 
eyes, at daytime as well as at night-time; they became 
more distinct by diminution of light and were increased 
after sleep ; they can be made to disappear by turning the 
head or the eye. The hallucinations were accompanied 
and followed by states of depression. 

In Germany, up to the time of patient's marriage, she 
suffered from severe attacks of convulsions accompanied 
with unconsciousness. These convulsive attacks used to be- 
gin with an aura, consisting in the sensation of numbness 
in the feet and formication and tingling, proceeding up- 
ward, succeeded by shock, accompanied with bright spots 
in the eyes, and then followed by falling down, with con- 
vulsions of the extremities and general motor spasms. Af- 
ter the attack patient was in a stuporous state, with tremor 
of hands and legs persisting for about two hours. The 
convulsive attacks lasted from five to twenty minutes. The 
frequency of the attacks was about once every two or 
three weeks. Patient suffered from these attacks since her 
fourteenth year. 

A closer examination revealed the following history: 

When B. C. was about nine months old her father died; 
when she was about the age of six or seven her mother mar- 
ried again. After her father's death B. C. lived with her 
grandmother. When her mother was confined after the 
second marriage, patient returned home to take care of the 
baby. The stepfather disliked her and was very cross to 
her, ill-treating her, although he was fond of his own chil- 
dren. When about fourteen years of age, patient left 
school, after having attended it for a period of eight years. 
As the stepfather would not allow her to remain at home, 
she went into domestic service, taking care of a little boy. 
After she had been in the place for about a month she be- 



332 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

came very restless, would cry often, would walk about the 
room in great anxiety and anguish. Her mental state was 
one of depression alternated with states of melancholic agi- 
tation; she suffered from headaches, with diffused pains in 
the whole body; the pains were especially severe in her 
hands, legs and abdomen. She does not remember any 
more about it. She did not know whether she had any 
fainting spells, but she was told by the lady that she was 
sick and was confined to bed for three days. The doctor 
who attended her said there was nothing the matter with 
her; that it was only homesickness. B. C. felt the same 
way, she was sure she would feel well if she could return 
home, as she felt an irresistible longing to get back home 
and see her people. When she felt better and stronger, 
she went home; she had to travel on foot through woods, 
but nothing daunted her, as the desire to see her mother 
and home was so strong. 

When she reached home after the great fatigue of the 
travel on foot, she was met by her stepfather, who scolded 
her and struck her with a towel. He drove her from the 
house with curses and told her to return to her work. This 
was a blow to her, and staggering and dazed, she started 
back for the place of her employment. When quite a dis- 
tance from home she was seized with her first convulsive or 
epileptic attack. She felt faint, something suddenly came 
over her and she fell unconscious. She was told afterward 
that she had an epileptic attack, her feet and hands 
worked. When she came to herself, she saw a number of 
men around her, and among them her stepfather. Patient 
cried while relating these experiences of her childhood. 
She did not return home, but her mother accompanied her 
to the house where she worked. Since then patient had 
similar convulsive attacks, with unconsciousness and subse- 
quent stupor once in two or three weeks, and sometimes 
twice a day. The frequency of the attacks was increased by 
worry or excitement. B. C. suffered from these epileptic 



HYPNOID STATES 333 

attacks up to five months after her marriage (1899) . Since 
then, she has had no attacks. She does not remember any- 
thing about the attacks ; knows only what other people tell 
her. The ill-treatment of her stepfather seemed to have 
greatly affected her and must have weighed heavily on 
her mind. Even now she cannot tell or think of it without 
depression and crying. The families for whom she worked 
liked her and were very kind to her. She could not, how- 
ever, forget the fact that she was driven away from her 
home and constantly brooded over it. She rarely visited 
home, as she knew that she was not welcome there, although 
her mother was very good to her. Finally the families for 
whom she worked sympathized with her, took pity, and 
spoke well of her to her stepfather. He became more kind 
to her, so that when she married he gave her six hundred 
marks. When she spoke of her wedding, she cried bit- 
terly. She did not tell her husband that she was subject 
to epileptic attacks until some time after her marriage. 
Husband reproaches her occasionally and tells her: "You 
are always sick and you have no children." 

B. C. came over to New York seven months ago. When 
she was there two days she was taken sick and was con- 
fined to bed for eight days. She had chills and fever, but 
soon got over it. She complains that her memory is get- 
ting weaker, that she cannot remember many things, and 
sometimes, when walking in the street, she gets confused 
and does not know where to go. 

A further inquiry disclosed the fact that her child was 
eight years old ; that when about the age of 21 she fell in 
love with a soldier, who, however, could not marry her, on 
account of his service in the army. She felt the disgrace 
keenly, when she realized she was to become a mother. 
She went to another place to her aunt. Her mother vis- 
ited her, noticed her condition and spoke to her about it. 
She kept away from home, from mother, stepfather and 
brothers. Even now they do not know anything about this 



334 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

little girl. After the birth of the child, patient visited 
home and then went to work in another town. No one 
knew anything about her disgrace except her aunt and 
uncle, who were glad to take care of the child, as they 
had no children of their own. About eight months after 
the birth of her child her lover fell sick, had some lung 
trouble, and died four months later. This was a blow to 
her, and she suffered greatly. B. C. is greatly affected 
when she speaks of her former lover, and she still seems 
to think and dream of him a good deal. Her husband 
accuses her of thinking more of the "other man than of 
himself," although patient denies it. Before her mar- 
riage she told her husband of her former love and of her 
illegitimate child. Her husband loves her, but he does not 
want her to refer to her former life history. Still the fact 
remains that her former love has left an indelible impres- 
sion on her mind; it still deeply moves her; her love and 
life belong to the past. Her present marriage was not 
one of love, and her relations to her husband are rather 
of aversion, and it is quite probable that sexual relations 
awaken in her disgust, nausea and may have given rise to 
the vomiting. 

The day she was married, as she was leaving church, 
before getting into the carriage, she heard a voice calling 
"Clara," "Clara." She looked around, but did not see 
anyone. She shuddered and thought it was the voice of 
her dead lover. She did not speak to her husband all 
the way from the church. She was very much dis- 
turbed by this occurrence and often thought of it. She 
has often been unkind to her husband, while he is so very 
good to her. Her husband has frequently complained of 
her indifference and coldness and is very much grieved 
over it. 

B. C. has frequent attacks of crying, accompanied with 
dyspncea and with thoracic and cardiac oppression, often 
followed by great agitation. She does not know the reason 



HYPNOID STATES 335 

of such attacks; they simply come over her and are un- 
controllable. She dreams often and the dreams are of a 
distressing character ; she often wakes up in tears, but does 
not remember the dreams. 

On April 20th she came under our care. She enjoyed 
her dinner, but an hour later complained of headache, of 
a throbbing pain. She looked very sleepy and said she 
did not care to talk to anyone. In the evening patient 
felt very drowsy, still complaining of headache. She slept 
for about two hours and a half, and on awaking said she 
felt much better. She slept the whole night, and toward 
morning tossed about in bed. Patient told the nurse she 
dreamed she was at home with her people, but did not re- 
member any more. She seems to think a good deal of her 
little girl; says her husband tells everyone that the girl 
is three years old, but she thinks the doctors should know 
the truth. She seems to be hurt by the fact that her hus- 
band is ashamed of her former love and of her child. 
Patient complains of having specks before the eyes, "little 
things flying around," as she puts it. 

B. C. was put into hypnosis. There was some apprehen- 
sion, but she went into hypnotic state easily, the hypnotic 
stage being deep, characterized by sensori-motor disturb- 
ances. In this state a revival of subconscious experiences 
was attempted, especially of those relating to the attacks, 
apparently epileptic in character, and belonging to what 
may be termed the first series of attacks, namely, those 
that began in her fourteenth year and terminated five 
months after her marriage. The patient was put back to 
that period of her early youth. The first experience that 
emerged was the presence of two eyes, described by the pa- 
tient as "angry and threatening." She remembered she 
saw those eyes before she fell down in the street. Patient 
began to cry, became restless, trembling, excitable, respira- 
tion increased, but she did not emerge from the hypnotic 
state. She recognized the eyes as those of her stepfather. 



336 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

She now remembers clearly that she always used to see 
those same angry, threatening eyes before the onset of each 
attack of the first series, that is, before what was diagnosed 
as "epileptic attacks." 

She could now remember distinctly the dizziness that 
came over her in the first attack. She fell with her eyes 
open. Two boys got hold of her and put her on a stone; 
then her stepfather's servants came and carried her into 
the house and put her to bed. After the revival of the 
first attack patient felt great fatigue and weakness all 
over her body. There was a condition of depression alter- 
nating with states of great agitation and crying. On 
awakening from the hypnotic state there was amnesia of 
all that had taken place in the trance state. 

When she returned from the laboratory she told the 
nurse that the doctor told her to lie down on the couch 
and that she must have fallen asleep, as she was dreaming 
about home; but she could not remember anything about 
the dreams. She could only remember that she rose from 
the couch; she felt very tired; could not walk. There was 
something the matter with her feet. Patient felt no pains, 
had no headache ; was restless in her sleep ; talked some- 
thing which the nurse could not make out; exclaimed 
"Oh!", but when the nurse came to her bed and spoke 
to her she did not answer; she was fast asleep. In the 
morning she told the nurse that she dreamt of being at 
home in Germany, and that she was there with her hus- 
band, stepfather and mother. There was a great storm; 
she could not recollect anything more. 

Next day she was again taken down to the laboratory 
and put into hypnosis. She was again put back to the 
period of the first epileptic attacks and again the "eyes" 
emerged, followed by similar excitement and emotional dis- 
turbance. "The angry, threatening eyes" preceded the 
attack as aura and constituted, so to say, the central expe- 
rience, the nucleus of this dissociated mental system, which 



HYPNOID STATES 387 

kept on recurring with each subsequent attack. The attacks 
were really not of an epileptic nature; they were simply 
subconscious states with intense psychomotor excitement, 
giving rise to convulsions, apparently of an organic, epi- 
leptic character, but really psychic in origin and nature. 
The amnesia of the attack was due to the very nature of 
the state of dissociation. The "post-epileptic" stupor was 
the result of a profound emotional and intellectual dis- 
turbance, produced by the emergence of the dissociated 
mental system. The subsequent tremors of the extremities 
and even of the whole body were the after-effects of the 
subconscious, emotional state of general excitement, and 
especially of terror. This dissociated mental system was 
brought back to the patient's memory and closely asso- 
ciated with that of her waking life. 

B. C. was then awakened; there was considerable emo- 
tional disturbance, and when she returned from the labora- 
tory she cried much, was very restless and nervous, and 
complained of headache. When a glass of milk was given 
to her, she could not hold it; her hand trembled and her 
teeth chattered; she said: "It was not good what the 
doctor did to me downstairs." She gradually quieted 
down, felt more cheerful and happy; enjoyed her din- 
ner; felt well the whole day and relished her supper. 
She went to bed early, slept more quietly and peacefully 
than usual. She woke up in the morning, felt very well 
and enjoyed her breakfast. In hypnosis the same cen- 
tral experience emerged. The subconscious level reached 
in hypnosis was strongly tinged with an unpleasant emo- 
tional tone; the experiences awakened were decidedly of 
a painful character, they referred to many brutalities 
that she had undergone when in the hospital confined 
with the illegitimate child. Patient was very much agi- 
tated when recovering from these experiences. When she 
emerged from the hypnotic state she was very much dis- 
turbed, though not so much as before. She told the nurse 
23 



338 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

that she did not like to sleep so much, that she did not 
think it was good for her. She did not want to remain 
alone in the room and asked for the nurse. She grad- 
ually quieted down and had good appetite for her dinner. 
Patient then asked the nurse if the doctor would come again 
in the evening, and was much relieved when answered in 
the negative. She then inquired whether other patients 
were similarly treated, and when answered in the affirma- 
tive, she felt contented. 

The same day it was tried to bring about visual hal- 
lucinations in the waking state; to evoke experimentally 
hallucinations which the patient used to have some time 
previously. A glass of water was put on a dark back- 
ground, the light was admitted from the left side, while the 
right side was dark. Patient was told to look into the glass 
of water. After three minutes there was sudden appear- 
ance of the face of a dog. The dog was black, with stripes, 
was threatening and angry, it was very large. This evi- 
dently referred to an early experience obtained under hyp- 
nosis. When patient was very young, a child of eight or 
so, she had to pass through some woods on her way to 
school, and was met once by a big black animal, which she 
thought was a dog. The animal gave a growl, but turned 
aside. She was very much frightened and ran home. 
There was no element of recognition on the part of the pa- 
tient. Then objects of indefinite shapes appeared. At 
this time there was great agitation, pain in the eyes, head- 
ache, bewilderment and fear which continued for some 
time afterward. The patient then declared that the water 
looked very black and strange. She became more and more 
agitated, and the experiment had to be discontinued. The 
agitation gradually subsided. She told the nurse that she 
did not like to look into the water ; it upset her. 

Patient felt well in the afternoon and was taken out 
for a walk, which she enjoyed very much, and was very 
cheerful. She told the nurse in the evening that while she 



HYPNOID STATES 339 

was lying on the couch, that is, in hypnosis, she had severe 
pains in the chest and in the head. She said the doctor put 
his hand on the seat of the pain and said : ' ' You will have 
no more pain." She then went to sleep, and when she 
woke again the pain was gone; patient added: "Do you 
think that is good?" 

B. C. slept soundly the whole night and felt well the 
next day. Next night patient passed very peacefully, 
though her sleep was somewhat disturbed by unpleasant 
dreams. She dreamt that she was caught by men and 
thrown into a cellar with savage dogs. She could hear 
the howling of the dogs and was afraid to be devoured 
by them. She also dreamt she was in Germany on some 
farm, saw a little calf, picked it up, kept it in her arms, 
but she soon noticed that the calf was all covered with 
blood, but seemingly not dead. She could remember dis- 
tinctly seeing her hands smeared with blood. It may be 
that this dream had some relation to her child and was 
evoked in this strange symbolic form by the activity of 
her dream consciousness. When patient woke up she was 
agitated, her face was flushed with excitement and she com- 
plained of headache, all evidently due to the painful dream- 
experience. These symptoms, however, soon passed off. 

A few nights later patient was sighing and moaning 
in sleep, talking in German, as if very angry, moaning as 
if in trouble. When she woke up in the morning, she com- 
plained of headache; said she did not sleep well during 
the night; had dreams; could not remember them; had 
pains all over the body. One time, when she awoke, her 
limbs felt stiff. Patient, however, soon felt much better, 
the "dream headache" wore off, and she enjoyed her 
breakfast and felt very cheerful. She felt well the whole 
day. In the evening the husband visited her. She became 
then very restless, until she fell asleep. When she woke 
up, she was bright and smiling and happy. She had a 
good dream, and asked the nurse not to tell the doctor. 



340 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

She dreamt the doctor came to her, made her go to sleep, 
held up his finger, counted up to ten, and off she went. 
She felt so well and would not worry any more. 

Next morning she was taken down to the laboratory, 
put into hypnosis, and the subconscious experiences of her 
early youth were revived, firmly associated with her pres- 
ent life experiences, with subsequent memory in her wak- 
ing personal life. When she returned she told the nurse: 
"I was downstairs; the two doctors put me to sleep. I 
dreamt about home; I saw my father [stepfather; patient 
began to cry] and mother. Father looked cross, like he 
did the time I went home when I was fourteen years old. 
It gave me pain in my head; I cannot forget how cross he 
looked ; I never did anything to make him so cross with me ; 
I had not thought about it a long time until I was down- 
stairs this morning" (patient kept on crying). "I do not 
want to go downstairs any more. ' ' She felt well the whole 
day. B. C. continued to feel well the next few days, 
during which time hypnosis no longer produced emotional 
disturbances. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE TWILIGHT OF CONSCIOUSNESS, OR DAMMERZUSTANDE 

There are some current theories which attempt to re- 
fer the amnesia of subconscious states or of the so-called 
"Dammerzustande" found in epilepsy to changes in vis- 
ceral ccenassthetic sensibility. Cases are brought to show 
that such changes of sensibility are really found in epileptic 
states. In order to reproduce an idea a, reason the repre- 
sentatives of this theory, the idea b with which it is asso- 
ciated and which gives rise to the reproduction of idea a 
is itself conditioned by the total attitude of consciousness; 
and should that consciousness be modified, then the idea b 
cannot rise, and consequently the idea a is arrested and 
cannot come to the light of consciousness. Now visceral 
sensibility forms a very important factor in the activity of 
mental life, and if therefore this sensibility is modified 
the whole constitution of consciousness becomes changed, 
and hence the old associations become disturbed and can- 
not rise; in other words, amnesia results. Epileptic am- 
nesia is supposed to originate in this way, and cases are 
brought to corroborate this theory. A close examination, 
however, of the cases adduced in support of this theory 
brings out fully its doubtful, if not negative character. 
For the followers of this view have neither proven the 
supposed change of coenaesthetic sensibility in the epileptic 
subconscious states as "Dammerzustande," nor have they 
shown, if present at all, to what extent the changes go, so 
as to justify the amnesia. 

Furthermore, granted that there are important visceral 
changes in epileptic "Dammerzustande," it is highly ques- 

341 



342 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tionable whether such changes give rise at all to any am- 
nesic conditions. For many organic diseases, such for 
instance as dyspepsia, enteric fever, typhoid, gastritis, 
cirrhosis of the liver, nephritis, diabetes, and many other 
physical ailments, whether acute or chronic, in which or- 
ganic sensibility is involved to a large extent and greatly 
changed, do not give rise to amnesic states as their charac- 
teristic symptoms. Changes, therefore, in ccengesthetic sen- 
sibility do not necessarily give rise to such extensive modifi- 
cations in the content of consciousness as to disrupt the 
current of association and produce amnesic states. On 
the other hand, amnesic states are known to be present 
without any change of visceral sensibility. It is enough 
to mention the whole domain of aphasia, which is really 
amnesia of an elementary form, referring to the more sim- 
ple elements of mental life. Elementary, however, as the 
aphasias are, they are still amnesias, but certainly they 
stand in no relation to visceral sensibilities. 

In functional amnesias of the more extensive kind, 
where whole tracts of mental life are seemingly gone and 
lost, there may be changes in peripheral incoming sensa- 
tions; there may be anaesthesias, hypoassthesias, pares- 
thesias; but they are usually of a peripheral character and 
of so slight an extent as to be out of all proportion to the 
amnesic state. Furthermore, while the sensory disturb- 
ances in functional cases, if present at all, are found to be 
fluctuating and fleeting, the concomitant amnesic states are 
frequently found to be stable; in other words, the two do 
not show concomitant changes. 

Janet's law that anaesthesias go with amnesias or that 
modifications of sensitivity go with memory-changes seems 
to confirm this peripheral theory of amnesia. Unfortu- 
nately the relation here is by no means a causal one. 
Thus in one of the cases the subconscious state was brought 
about by the shock of a fall, which also accidentally in- 
volved the lower extremities. In another case, the hypo- 



TWILIGHT OF CONSCIOUSNESS 343 

aesthesia of the leg was due to persistent suggestion acci- 
dentally associated with the object producing mental or 
psychic shock. The aura found in the subconscious states 
of so-called "psychic epilepsy" are in my researches 
proven to be just such accidentally associated changes of 
sensitivity. For in one case, whose aura was sensations of 
red, it was found that the color red happened to be associ- 
ated with the shock and first attack, while in another case, 
whose aura was sensations of green, the color green was 
found to be similarly associated ; still another case, in which 
the aura was a fetid smell and nauseating taste, it was found 
that the first attack came on when a piece of fetid, nauseat- 
ing meat happened to be in the patient's mouth. Whatever 
may be the connection or association between changes of 
visceral or of peripheral sensibility, it is certainly not one 
of a causal, but of a casual or occasional character; stated 
in other words, it may be said that the connection is purely 
central or essentially mental in origin. 

The changes in visceral or peripheral sensibility may be 
casually connected with the subconscious states, or "Dam- 
merzustande, ' ' as both are the effects of one central process ; 
in either case, the relation is purely central in character. 
Far from affirming that it is changes of peripheral or vis- 
ceral sensibility that give rise to subconscious states, with 
their consequent amnesias, the reverse rather may be af- 
firmed with far more truth ; it is the subconscious states that 
give rise to the change of peripheral or visceral sensitivity. 
In typical organic epilepsy, sensory and motor disturbances 
do not stand in relation of cause and effect; both are 
effects of one central cause; similarly epileptic subcon- 
scious states and peripheral sensory changes, when present 
at all, are both of them results of one central process. 

Furthermore, the subconscious states and the sensory 
changes may become entirely dissociated, one appearing 
without the other. Extensive sensori-motor changes appear 
without any subconscious states, and on the other hand, 



344 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

subconscious states are present, with almost no appreciable 
sensori-motor disturbances. So noticeable is this inde- 
pendence in many cases that it is a current belief that 
one is a substitute for the other; that where subconscious 
states are fully developed the sensori-motor changes are at 
a minimum, and where the sensori-motor disturbances are 
at a maximum, the subconscious states are at a minimum. 
In other words, subconscious states are present where the 
sensori-motor disturbances are absent; or, as it is some- 
times put, epileptic mental disturbances are the "psychic 
equivalents" of typical epileptic attacks, with their loss of 
consciousness and sensori-motor disturbances. 

There is another point of view often maintained by 
psychologists and psychopathologists, a view which at- 
tempts to explain the amnesia of the subconscious states or 
of the " Dammerzustande " by reduced "mental intensity." 
When the activity of consciousness, it is claimed, is weak, 
then the "Dammerzustande" take place, and hence subse- 
quently arise retrospective mental gaps or amnesic states. 
Thus a dream state represents weakened states of mental 
activity, and it is well known how dreams easily lapse from 
memory. The subconscious states are taken to be dream 
states, that is, states of mental activity of low intensity, 
and hence the resulting amnesic condition. 

If we closely examine this point of view, we find that it 
is not quite correct psychologically. A mental state of low 
intensity is not necessarily a lowered capacity of reproduc- 
tion. A weak sensation may be very vivid and well re- 
membered, while on the other hand a very intense sensa- 
tion may be of very low vividness, and its memory may 
hence be indistinct or possibly lacking altogether. Mental 
intensity and reproduction do not necessarily stand in rela- 
tion to each other. Mental states of low intensity may be- 
come easily reproduced, while mental states of high inten- 
sity may lapse from memory. Memory depends largely on 
the number and frequency of formed associations. Mental 



TWILIGHT OF CONSCIOUSNESS 345 

states, with a great number of associations of frequent repe- 
titions, can be more easily revived than states of few asso- 
ciations and of rare occurrence; there are more organized 
starting-points from which the given state may be brought 
into consciousness. Should such associations become few 
and narrowed, then the power of reproduction becomes cor- 
respondingly reduced. 

Furthermore, the term "mental intensity" is ambigu- 
ous and obscure. Does it mean sensory life of great in- 
tensity, intense sensations; does it mean vivid mental 
states, vivid representations, clear and distinct ideas; does 
it mean a great number of associations awakened, or does 
it mean mental states having great affective or emotional 
elements as constituents? 

The greatest objection, however, to the theory of "men- 
tal weakness" is the fact that it does not accord with ex- 
perience and observation. They who have closely studied 
subconscious states in hypnosis, especially in its last stages, 
know that intensity of consciousness is by no means weak- 
ened, that, though highly suggestible, it is still very clear 
and distinct, and if by intensity is meant anything at all, 
then it may be said that intensity of subconscious life dif- 
fers but little from the waking states of the upper con- 
sciousness. And still the amnesia after emerging from this 
state is often profound and complete. 

If we turn to cases of amnesia not of the hypnotic type, 
we find the same truth, namely, that the subconscious states 
are often clear, distinct, vivid and ' ' intense, ' ' differing but 
little from the normal state, as far as quality of conscious- 
ness is concerned. The changes are in the content and form 
of mental activity. In fact, in one of the cases of double 
consciousness, the Hanna case, the secondary state was far 
more clear, far more distinct, more vivid and receptive 
than was the original normal primary state. Even the 
so-called epileptic " Dammerzustande " are not entirely 
clouded and confused, and quite many cases are found an 



346 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

examination of which reveals a condition of clear "in- 
tense" consciousness; and still they are followed often by 
a severe form of irretraceable amnesia. 

One great error which people are apt to make is to read 
the nature of things from the terms by which they are de- 
noted. The very word "subconscious" irresistibly suggests 
to many minds mental states of low intensity. As a matter 
of fact, the "subconscious" is by no means identical with 
mental states of low ' ' intensity " ; it includes psychic states 
ranging from the lowest to the highest tension and vivid- 
ness of mental activity. It may be that for clearness' sake 
it were better to discard this term "subconscious"; unfort- 
unately we have no better term, and, besides, it has taken 
root in literature and is highly useful, if used in its right 
sense, to include the phenomena it is meant to cover. Be- 
cause states are termed "subconscious," it does not follow 
that they are of low intensity and vividness. What is 
meant is the fact that subconscious states fall outside the 
range of normal consciousness and are dissociated, so that 
they cannot be reproduced or recognized. In other words, 
their tendency is toward amnesia in the normal upper 
consciousness. These subconscious states may be associated 
and coherent with one another and may thus be enabled 
to have reproduction and recognition ; they may have mem- 
ory, and that of a very precise and exact character. The 
subconscious states occurring in epileptic conditions may 
be of a very low type of moment consciousness and may 
lack altogether any reproductive or recognitive qualities. 
In the higher type of subconscious mental life, memory 
is present for subconscious states, and even for states of 
the upper consciousness, though the reverse is usually 
absent; that is, the states of the upper consciousness have 
no memory for the subconscious states. 



CHAPTER XVII 



HYSTERIA 



A number of cases of a functional character is known 
in medical literature under the term of hysteria. What 
the term hysteria denotes is rarely denned, though it seems 
to connote much to the mind of the medical student. To 
some, hysteria is only a matter of "fancy" and "innate 
eussedness." This point of view is not in accordance with 
the facts and need not be discussed here, as it is simply a 
negation of the reality of the phenomena; it is a simple 
refusal to recognize the validity of the subject-matter. 
Others define hysteria in terms of "unreasonable will- 
stimuli," of "sympathies," of unrelated "parallelism." 
It is obvious that such definitions require no discussion. 
Those, however, who do make themselves acquainted with 
the phenomena and try to reduce them to a rational order, 
attempt to give some precise definition to the term "hys- 
teria" with various success. "Hysteria" is denned as a 
mental disease. It is, however, evident that such a defini- 
tion is far from being exact and definite. There are many 
diseases which are mental in character and which can 
hardly be classed among the hysterias; the different forms 
of aphasia, the many forms of mania, melancholias, para- 
noias, etc., are all mental diseases, but they are not hys- 
terias. To define hysteria simply as a mental disorder is 
as inadequate as to define man as a two-legged animal. 

It is true that very often the psychic aspect of the dif- 
ferent forms of disorders that go under the name of "hys- 
teria" must be specially emphasized as against the view 
that makes of that disturbance a purely bodily affection. 

347 



348 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

This is perfectly legitimate, in fact, indispensable, but it 
would not do to base on it a scientific definition, not be- 
cause it is incorrect, but because it is too general, and hence 
too vague and ambiguous. It is not enough to define a 
tiger as an animal, but its differentia should be given; in 
the same way it is not sufficient to define hysteria as a 
psychic trouble; its differentia should be added. 

What are the special traits or differentia? of the psychic 
disturbance known under the term of "hysteria"? The 
traits commonly given as specific of "hysteria" are: men- 
tal instability, suggestibility, weakness or lack of will- 
power, and emotionality. Now these characteristics are 
certainly very suggestive, but they are not sufficient to sin- 
gle out and denote adequately the type of "hysterical" in- 
firmities. These characteristics, it can be pointed out, 
are too general, too indefinite and too vague. For mental 
instability, suggestibility, weakness of will and emotional- 
ity are also to be found in many mental diseases of widely 
different types. Maniacal states or states of general par- 
esis will answer this description. Besides, the traits are so 
comprehensive as to include mental states which can hardly 
be regarded as psychic diseases. The mental condition of 
children and savages presents just these very traits of char- 
acter; they are mentally instable, they are highly sugges- 
tible, their will-power is weak and deficient, and they are 
highly emotional. And it will certainly be a strain of gen- 
eralization to regard children and savages as mentally dis- 
eased and suffering from hysterical maladies. The con- 
cept of hysteria as well as the outline of its nature remains 
vague, ill-defined and obscure, and covers a vast number of 
psychopathological functional affections of various forms 
and types whose physical basis is not of the permanent 
type of organic lesions. 

A very ingenious theory of the cause and nature of 
"hysteria" has been recently advanced. According to this 
theory, the nature of hysteria consists in the abnormally 



HYSTERIA 349 

powerful intensity of the sensory components, concomitant 
with the reproduced ideas and their associated feelings, 
bringing about an abnormal intensification of these very 
feelings. In other words, hysteria is denned as a malady 
of emotional life, an intensification of reproduced emotions 
brought about by the abnormal intensity of the associated 
ideo-sensory processes. 

Now it is left untold what those ideo-sensory processes 
are. Since emotions themselves on any theory, whether 
peripheral or central, are largely made up of ideo-sensory 
elements and processes, it is hard to tell how much of the 
whole generalization is a tautology. The whole theory re- 
duces itself to the very well-known statement that hysteria 
is simply intense emotionalism. This, however, is nothing 
but words with but little meaning to them ; neither do they 
define the nature of hysteria, nor do they give the modus 
operandi of the facts of emotionalism in giving rise to the 
phenomenon regarded as belonging to the type known as 
"hysteria." The intense ideo-sensory elements should be 
indicated and their relations to the phenomena under in- 
vestigation should be determined. Nothing of the kind is 
done and the theory of intense emotionalism is but a 
repetition of the current popular views on the subject. 
It is true that an attempt is made to base this popular 
view on a more firm basis and express it in more exact sci- 
entific terms. Hysterical emotionalism is referred to repro- 
duced ideo-sensory elements having an abnormal intensity. 
This, too, however, is rather vague, as the reproduced ele- 
ments are not indicated. 

Furthermore, it is hard to understand what is meant by 
reproduced intense ideas and sensations. Psychologically 
regarded, this theory, as it stands, is full of ambiguity 
and does not accord with facts. An idea may be repro- 
duced, but it has no intensity; a sensation has intensity, 
but then it cannot be reproduced. What the theory 
affirms is the generalization that all the phenomena falling 



350 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

under the category of "hysteria" may be explained by or 
traced originally to the intensity of representative life with 
its accompanying affective states. In other words, hysteria 
is regarded as a disease of reproductive mental life. Now 
it does not accord with facts to find intensity as a quality of 
representative life; an idea may be vivid, but is not in- 
tense, and it is wrong to suppose that, however vivid an 
idea or representation may be, it should ever become a pres- 
entation or sensation. An idea of sound does not sound, 
nor is an idea of redness red, no matter how vivid it may 
be made. We can no more reproduce or represent sensa- 
tion than we can add a cubit to our height. Still more dif- 
ficult is it to realize a reproduction of affective states and 
emotions. If there be such reproduction, then it is cer- 
tainly of a different type than that of ideas, and the two 
must not therefore be lumped together into one category. 

From a general consideration of this theory of emotion- 
alism, it is well to enter into a more detailed examination 
and see how the theory works when applied to the phenom- 
ena that go under the comprehensive term of hysteria. Is 
this theory of reproduced intense emotionalism a working 
hypothesis? If we inspect closely the phenomena under 
consideration, we find that they present sensory, motor, 
ideo-motor and sensori-motor defects ; we find that they pre- 
sent anaesthesia of the different senses in various degrees 
and also amnesia of different forms and types. How are 
these facts to be explained on the general theory that takes 
emotional life as its basis? The anaesthesias are regarded 
as modifications of peripheral and visceral sensibility, due 
to the diseased states of the various organs. Now it is these 
modifications, along with the intense reproduced emotional 
states, that give rise to the amnesic conditions so often pres- 
ent in patients of the hysterical diathesis. The changes in 
visceral sensibility work in the same way to bring about am- 
nesia as they do in the " Dammerzustande " of epilepsy; 
they so modify the totality of consciousness that certain eon- 



HYSTERIA 351 

tents of memory requiring definite mental states for their 
reproduction cannot be revived. Thus, for instance, the 
case of Azam, the case of Burret and Bourrou, the case 
edited by Weir Mitchell, are all referred to the sensory 
changes found in the peripheral organs. Thus one of the 
followers of this theory cites cases of Janet, showing such 
peripheral sensory changes present with the onset of differ- 
ent forms of amnesia and the disappearance of those am- 
nesic states with the return of the sensory states to the 
normal condition. Thus Janet tells of some of his cases 
that, with the disappearance of the skin and muscle anaes- 
thesia, the amnesic states have also ceased. In fact, one 
may even refer to Janet's law that amnesias come and go 
with sensory disturbances. 

The factor of sensory disturbances, however, does not 
seem sufficient to account for all the phenomena, and the 
other factor, that of intense reproduced affections and 
emotions, is brought in to bear on the subject. Hysteria, 
it is pointed out, is characterized by the important symp- 
toms that reproduced emotions manifest themselves with 
unusual abnormal intensity. It is the abnormal intensity 
of emotional life, partly dependent on the changes of 
peripheral and visceral sensibility, so prevalent in hys- 
teria, that is the cause of the amnesic states. A psycho- 
logical principle is now being drawn that very intense 
emotional states suppress the reproduction of ideas and 
memories associated with them. When an idea a is asso- 
ciated with an emotion 6, then if the reproduction of 
this idea a revives the intense emotion &, the emotion b 
exercises an inhibitive influence on a, the memory a is in- 
hibited, and hence amnesia. The adherents of this view 
attempt to substantiate it by an analysis of cases. The 
analysis shows that in some cases a strong emotion brings 
about the hysterical state with its symptoms. Now it is 
believed that no sooner do these memories arise to con- 
sciousness than their accompanying emotions arise, too, 



352 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

and with an intensity so great as to inhibit the very mem- 
ories and give rise to amnesia. 

Of course, the question arises as to the validity of the 
principle of having an emotion inhibit instead of fixing the 
ideas associated with it. For we find that in normal life, 
as well as in abnormal mental activity, memories become 
fixed in proportion to the strength of the accompanying af- 
fective states and emotions. This objection is overcome by 
the reply that this holds true only up to a certain degree 
of intensity of the affective states. When the intensity of 
the emotions rises beyond a certain point, then, instead of 
fixing the memory, the emotion inhibits it and produces 
loss of psychic content, thus giving rise to the different 
forms of amnesia. 

A closer examination, however, of this theory reveals its 
questionable character. First of all, it postulates that an 
emotion revived representatively by an idea differs from 
the original emotion only in the degree of intensity. This 
generalization of identifying the qualitative side of pres- 
entation and representation and making them differ in 
degree only is not true to fact. A presentation is not an 
intense representation, an "intense" idea does not become 
a sensation, nor is a weak sensation an idea. Affective 
states and emotions can no more be reproduced by repre- 
sentations, by ideas, than sensations can. Psychologically, 
it is opposed to facts of observations, and physiologically 
the theory assumes that the central apparatus and its phys- 
iological processes are in structure and function identical 
with the peripheral sensory organs and their mode of ac- 
tion. One may as well place eyes, ears, nose and tongue 
in the cerebral lobes. The theory, therefore, cannot be 
accepted on general grounds, because it is not in accord 
with the facts of psychology and physiology; in fact, it 
contradicts their most fundamental principles. 

If now from the general review of the theory, we turn 
to the facts it is assumed to explain, we find that it is also 



HYSTERIA 353 

out of accord with them and that the explanation given is 
but an apparent one ; the very essence of the facts is really 
ignored. It is contended on this theory that the memories 
as representations are inhibited by their associated repro- 
duced emotions and hence the amnesic states. Now as a 
matter of fact, nothing of the kind is really observed in 
those forms of amnesia that go under the name of hys- 
teria and which, on account of the vagueness of the term 
and the clustering round it of a great number of invalid 
concepts, it were better to use the more comprehensive and 
more adequate designation of "functional psychosis." 

The phenomena of functional psychosis are in direct 
contradiction to this theory of inhibitory reproduced affec- 
tive states and emotions. If the emotion is to keep the 
associated representation under inhibition, then it is evi- 
dent that the removal of the emotion will also remove the 
inhibition; in other words, in order that the amnesia 
should persist, the association of the emotion with the 
idea must be stable, permanent and lasting. Most cases 
of functional amnesia do not reveal the least trace of the 
presence of emotional states. On the contrary, indiffer- 
ence, affective and emotional, hyposesthesia or anesthesia 
of the emotional life, is most often the case. Even in 
the cases where emotions do enter as a factor, they do so 
in the beginning of the attack, and may bring about a 
psychic trauma, giving rise to the symptoms characterizing 
the different forms of functional psychosis. Once, how- 
ever, functional psychosis, with its psychic states, is origin- 
ated, the emotion itself is no longer active. 

An emotion may work harmful results, somewhat like a 
physical blow on the head, in producing amnesia; in fact, 
it may be regarded in such cases as a psychic blow, but it is 
certainly strange to assert that it is the blow which under- 
lies the nature of the amnesia and is a permanent factor in 
the psychopathological phenomena, nor can it be asserted 
that each subsequent attack is preceded by a blow. The 
24 



354 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

blow is absent, but the psychic state persists. The nature 
of functional psychosis lies not in the blow, but in the 
pathological neural disturbances with their accompanying 
psychic manifestations. Functional amnesia is not kept up 
by the intensity of emotion; the emotion, if it does occur 
as the occasion of the mental malady, may pass away, but 
the amnesic condition remains. In many of my cases of 
functional amnesia, not the least trace of emotion could 
be discovered. 

Moreover, according to this same theory, sensori-motor 
changes and disturbances of coenassthetic sensibility should 
be observed, but nothing of the kind could be found. With 
the exception of the amnesia, not the least difference could 
be found between the normal state and that of the amnesic 
conditions. In the M. case the amnesia is of systematized 
character, in the F. ease the amnesia is of a localized char- 
acter, but in neither could any affective, emotional, nor 
any sensory changes be found. Even in the Hanna case, 
where the amnesia was complete and general, the patient 
possessed excellent self-control, manifested no emotional 
disturbances and revealed no sensory changes whatever. 

As a matter of fact, when sensory changes do occur in 
functional psychosis, they are not at all of a peripheral 
physiological character, but of a purely central and psychic 
origin, often brought about by suggestion or subconscious 
auto-suggestion. The key to functional psychosis is not to 
be sought in its occasional factors and circumstances, such 
as emotionalism and sensori-motor changes, but they must 
be looked for in disturbances of a purely central character ; 
they must be sought in psychophysiological dissociations of 
the central neural apparatus due to the rise and fall of 
thresholds. 

Furthermore, the very essence of functional psychosis 
is entirely overlooked by this theory of intense revived emo- 
tional states. Neither the seemingly lost sensori-motor 
impressions nor the memory experiences are really lost in 



HYSTERIA 355 

functional psychosis. The apparently lost experiences can 
be shown to be present in the patient's subconscious life. 
The lost content has not vanished from consciousness ; it is 
present there in a dissociated form. Tapped by psycho- 
pathological methods, such as distraction, automatic writ- 
ing, guessing, hypnoidization, and under conditions favor- 
able to the manifestations of subconscious states, the seem- 
ingly vanished content suddenly reappears and stands out 
clear and distinct in the background of consciousness. 

Moreover, it can also be shown that the seemingly an- 
aesthetic spots are really highly sensitive, and the appar- 
ently forgotten and lapsed memories are actually present 
in full to the smallest detail. We may fully affirm the 
statement which may be termed the paradox of functional 
maladies that in functional psychosis all losses are present ; 
that all deficiencies are also excesses, that all anaesthesias 
are also hyperesthesias and that all amnesias are also 
hyperkinesias. 

So strongly marked is this the case in functional psy- 
chosis that some investigators find that what really re- 
quires explanation is not the anaesthesias and amnesias, but 
the hyperaesthesias and hypermnesias. As a matter of 
fact, the two are inseparable in functional psychosis; they 
are but two aspects of one and the same fundamental phe- 
nomenon of functional dissociation. What is completely 
lost to the patient's personal consciousness is present in full 
in the subconscious dissociated state. The phenomena of 
functional psychosis originate in psychic dissociation, with 
its concomitant physiological dissociation of neural systems 
and elements. Psychologically regarded, functional psy- 
chosis is a dissociation of systems of moments consciousness; 
physiologically regarded, functional psychosis is a disag- 
gregation of neurons systems. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

TYPES OF DISSOCIATED PERSONALITIES 

Psychophysiological dissociation is at the basis of the 
psychopathic states of functional psychosis. The occasion 
or the proximate cause of functional psychosis is invari- 
ably present in the dissociated psychopathic states. Thus, 
for instance, the event and circumstances that have given 
rise to functional psychosis can always be found, on in- 
vestigation, in the dissociated moment. Tapping this dis- 
sociated moment by different methods, the detachable sen- 
sori-motor states with its memories are brought to light 
and a reassoeiation is made possible. Such a reassociation 
removes the psychopathic conditions and the anaesthesias 
and amnesias vanish. Cases of psychic epilepsy, the many 
forms of aphasias, fixed ideas and other mental and sen- 
sori-motor maladies of like kind may be brought as good 
illustrations of the truth of our proposition. The experi- 
ences and memories are present in the dissociated moment 
in a subconscious state and do not become synthetized in 
the functioning personal moment consciousness. 

What specially characterizes functional psychosis is the 
fact that its losses are not absolute, but relative only. What 
is absent in self-consciousness is present subconsciously. 
Neither the anaesthesias nor the amnesias are absolute. In 
fact, far from being the case that functional psychosis 
manifests itself in losses such as diminished or even total 
loss of sensibility or of memory, it can be shown that when 
the subconscious dissociated state is tapped by stimuli ade- 

356 



DISSOCIATED PERSONALITIES 357 

quate to its functioning activity, that hyperesthesia and 
hypermnesia take the place of anaesthesia and amnesia. 

The apparently anesthetic spot is shown to be highly 
sensitive, far more so than in the normal state, and the 
seemingly lost tract of memories is present to the minutest 
details. Thus in the D. F. case^ the visual stimulations that 
were outside of her greatly contracted field of vision were 
apparently not perceived by the patient. An examina- 
tion, however, revealed that they were actually present in 
the patient's mind, but in such a condition as not to be 
directly reached by the active systems of associations con- 
stituting for the time being the patient's personality; in 
other words, the impressions, the sensory experiences ex- 
isted in a detached form, in a form dissociated from the 
rest of the associative systems of the patient's personal 
mental activity. Once, however, these detached, dissoci- 
ated systems were reached by stimuli appropriate to them; 
then it became clear that not only were the stimulations 
perceived, but the perception was highly delicate and sen- 
sitive. While the field of vision in self-consciousness be- 
came greatly contracted, that of the subconscious became 
enlarged beyond the normal. There was the anaesthesia 
for the contracted personal consciousness and hyperesthesia 
for the dissociated consciousness. 

Similarly in the ease of F., where whole tracts of mem- 
ories were apparently completely lost from personal con- 
sciousness, they were found in all their manifold details in 
the subconscious, clearly revealing the important fact that 
here, too, personal amnesia is dissociated hypermnesia. The 
central truth of functional psychosis is psychophysiological 
dissociation giving rise to the two opposing and apparently 
contradictory sets of symptoms or manifestations. The 
threshold of sensitivity and recollection seems to move in 
two opposite directions ; while there is a rise of threshold to 
maximum in the self-consciousness, there is also a fall of 
the threshold to minimum in the subconscious. This simul- 



358 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

taneous rise and fall of thresholds for sensitivity and recol- 
lection may he regarded as the paradox of functional 
psychosis. 

The paradoxical side of this simultaneous rise and fall 
of the thresholds becomes perfectly plain and clear when we 
remember that all functional psychosis is a dissociation 
of mental systems. The dissociated system falling out 
of the main organization of the functioning systems gives 
rise to limited anaesthesia and amnesia. Reached, however, 
through appropriate and adequate stimulations, they re- 
veal a full account of their very isolation and dissociation 
from the rest of functioning systems, disclosing their entire 
content, manifesting hyperesthesia and hypermnesia. In 
reality, the two seemingly contradictory manifestations of 
rise and fall of threshold for sensitivity and recollection 
are both two sides of one and the same phenomenon; both 
are related to one and the same central fact of functional 
psychosis — psychophysiological dissociation, the dissocia- 
tion and disaggregations of systems of central neural ele- 
ments with their concomitant psychic systems or moments 
consciousness. 1 

The phenomena of simultaneous functioning of both 
personal consciousness and subconscious systems cannot be 
explained on the theory of emotionalism, and the facts, 
moreover, directly contradict that theory. Thus in the 
subconscious motor manifestations of automatic writing ex- 
periences are recorded by the patient, apparently in an 
automatic way, while he is busy reading or talking, the 
experiences being of a nature unknown to the patient, and 
the act of recording remains also unknown. The same ex- 
periences may also be manifested in the form of whisper- 
ing, occurring in an automatic form, the patient remaining 
entirely unconscious of the whole occurrence. The theory 
of emotionalism has no explanation of these phenomena, 
but on the dissociation theory such phenomena should 
1 See part ill, chapters xi, xii. 



DISSOCIATED PERSONALITIES 359 

naturally be expected. The psychophysiological systems 
that have become dissociated carry on their functioning 
activity side by side with the main systems, with the per- 
sonal consciousness. 

Furthermore, we should expect to find that the organ 
temporarily possessed by the subconscious dissociative sys- 
tems, such, for instance, as the hand or the tongue, should 
for the time being fall outside the control and conscious- 
ness of the main personality. Now we actually find this 
to be the case. When the hand of the automatic writer is 
pricked, he does not feel it, though the dissociated con- 
sciousness does. On the theory of emotionalism, there is 
absolutely no reason why the facts should be of such a 
character. 

The same holds true in cases of amnesia, where the 
automatic writing records events, totally unknown to the 
subject, occurring during the time he is attentively reading 
or engaged in active conversation. Two streams of con- 
sciousness run here side by side; two moments are active 
simultaneously. The theory of emotionalism can give no 
reason for these phenomena. The theory of dissociation, on 
the contrary, not only explains them, but in fact makes 
them absolutely necessary. 

Instead of simultaneity, functional psychosis may pre- 
sent phenomena of succession of an alternate character. 
Memories may alternate, what is known to one state is un- 
known to the other. The alternate states may form series 
which know each other. "What account can the theory of 
emotionalism give of these phenomena? None whatever! 
If an intense emotion brings about an amnesic state, then 
the removal of the emotion and the coming up into con- 
sciousness of the inhibited forgotten content should not be 
accompanied by a new amnesia. The theory of psycho- 
logical dissociation once more can account fully for these 
phenomena, in fact, it requires their occurrence, if the 
theory is to be substantiated and verified at all. Two or 



360 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

more dissociated systems, two or more dissociated moments 
may function simultaneously or successively. "When they 
do function in succession, what should happen ? Naturally 
the phenomena of alternating amnesia. 

The interrelation of the alternating states may be of 
such a character that they may be completely unknown to 
one another; or they may be known to one, but not to the 
other. Thus the first series of states may not know the sec- 
ond series, nor the second the first ; or while the first series 
does not know of the second, the second series does know the 
first. In the first case the dissociation is complete; in the 
second case, the dissociation is fully present in the primary 
series, but not in the secondary. Suppose, for the sake of 
illustration, consciousness consists of moments A, B, C, D, 
E, P, then in the case where the states are unknown the 
primary series may consist of A, B, while the secondary 
series consists of C, D, E, F; both series are independent 
and dissociated, and as such are unknown to each other. In 
the case, however, where the secondary knows the primary, 
but not the reverse, then the secondary consists of all the 
functioning moments, while the primary consists only of A, 
B, and as such it does not know the rest of the moments, C, 
D, E, F, etc. Now, while on the theory of dissociation we 
should expect such interrelation in the dissociated moments, 
on the theory of emotionalism, the phenomena of alternat- 
ing memory-series and their interrelations remain an in- 
soluble mystery. 

The secondary states may be wide and extensive enough 
to include the primary states, or they may be so narrow 
as to exclude them. In the former case, the secondary 
states may be regarded as more or less complete states, 
while the primary states are the incomplete ones. Fre- 
quently, however, both primary and secondary states are 
incomplete, and while they may have in common many 
of the lower automatic and secondary reflex psychic activi- 
ties, they lack common elements of conscious memory, and 



DISSOCIATED PERSONALITIES 861 

hence there is no recollection of one series by the other. 
The whole series of primary states, however, represents a 
flowing, synthetic, organic unity with recognition and recol- 
lection of all the primary states; while all the secondary 
states form another independent, but also an organic unity, 
having recognition and memory for all the secondary states 
that enter the flowing unit. In other words, two personali- 
ties are formed which to all intents and purposes may be 
regarded as independent of each other, being unconscious 
of each other and having two separate centres of syn- 
thesis, giving rise to the phenomena known as double con- 
sciousness. 

If the cycle appears but once, we have mono cyclical 
bimorphosis ; if the cycle is repeated, poly cyclical bimor- 
phosis. There is, however, no reason why the separate series 
should be limited to two, although this is the most common 
occurrence. There may be many separate series, with as 
many independent foci of synthesis, giving rise to as many 
different individualities. In such a case we have the phe- 
nomena of multiple consciousness or of multiple personal- 
ity ; in short, the phenomena of polymorphosis. If the cycle 
occurs but once, then the polymorphosis may be said to be 
monocyclical; if the cycle is repeated, the polymorphosis 
is polycyclical. 

The formed personalities in polymorphosis act as inde- 
pendent individual beings and enter into relations, con- 
versations and discussions with one another, the whole pre- 
senting a dramatic play in which many personages take 
active part, successively as well as simultaneously. Such, 
for instance, are those functional cases of multiple person- 
ality, reported by many writers, cases which to a certain 
extent may be reproduced artificially. These many per- 
sonalities may fuse and form a new personality with all 
the contents of memory belonging to them, and as such may 
have recognition of all of them. 

At this point let me emphasize the fact which has been 



362 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

but too often entirely overlooked, namely, the fundamental 
difference between reproductive amnesia and that of a 
purely recognitive character. In amnesia of reproduction, 
the very contents of memory are lost, whether functionally 
or organically, whether relatively and temporarily or ab- 
solutely ; in amnesia of recognition, the content of memory 
on examination can be shown to be present and reproduced, 
but it is not recognized as belonging to one's past life. 
Amnesia of recognition is no doubt due to a great narrow- 
ing down of associative connections brought about by the 
process of functional dissociation, affecting the particular 
content. For recognition, as we have shown, is a function 
of associative systems, recognition becoming more localized 
in time and more specific in proportion to the number of 
associative interconnections. Recognitive amnesia depends 
on a very limited field of associative activity, or rather on 
a very great extent of dissociation, while amnesia of re- 
production is the outcome of complete functional dissocia- 
tion. In both cases the psychic content is retained ; in one 
case it is reproduced only, but not recognized, in the other 
it is neither recognized nor reproduced. 

Now, in the phenomena of bimorphosis and polymor- 
phosis, whether coexistent or successive, the same important 
distinction between amnesia of recognition and amnesia of 
reproduction should be maintained. This distinction gives 
us a wider, deeper and clearer view of the phenomena and 
their interrelation. These dissociated streams of thought, 
these various foci of mental activity, these individual mo- 
ments developing into fully fledged personalities, since the 
detached fragments of the personal moment have a ten- 
dency to become personalities in their turn and thus repro- 
duce the type of moment from which they have become 
detached, may stand in different relations to one another. 
The newly developed personality formed by dissociation 
may know the rest, but not recognize them, or it may not 
even reproduce them, in either case the rest are regarded 
as total strangers. 



DISSOCIATED PERSONALITIES 363 

The quasi-individualities formed may be sharply de- 
fined in character, with strong claims of being independent 
personalities, and though often bringing confusion in their 
wake, they are jealous of their independence and strenu- 
ously resist attempts at fusion. The quasi-personality puts 
forth claims of being an independent, objective individual 
and not even related to the patient's personality, of which 
it is really a constituent. The Flournoy case and other 
related cases are of this type of polymorphosis. 

In cases of polymorphic personality we usually find one 
or two predominating personalities, which present a high 
degree of stability and individuality, while the rest are 
unstable; they come and go and get character and indi- 
viduality by insistent questioning and indirect suggestions 
given to them by outside people and their surroundings. 
There is no doubt that the very interplay of the principal 
dominating personalities as well as of the subordinate ones 
is in itself an important factor in the strengthening of the 
various crystallized individualities, which at first may 
come into being in a rather amorphous condition. The in- 
terrelation of these different quasi-individualities, though 
seemingly so aggressively independent, is really a very 
intimate one; they are all chips of the same block. 



CHAPTER XIX 

A SINGLE APPEARANCE OP A SECONDARY PERSONALITY 

Cases of double and multiple personality, though few in 
number, have been published and republished, but they 
have not been given a close analysis. They always remained 
mysterious freaks, monstrosities of the human mind, and 
were described as scientific curiosities. The lay mind re- 
gards them with fear and awe, as mysterious manifestations 
of the supernatural ; the scientific world looks at them as 
rare, exceptional phenomena, to which science has no key 
and which, on account of their exceptional occurrence, may 
as well, for "scientific purposes," be neglected. When the 
Greeks for the first time discovered electricity in the ' ' elec- 
tron" or amber, they considered it a freak of nature, an 
exception. It was reserved for the future generations, two 
thousand years later, to demonstrate the potency of elec- 
tricity. Psychologists with one accord have passed the 
verdict: cases of multiple consciousness are exceptions to 
the law. From the stand-point, however, of our psycho- 
physiological theory of the mind, the phenomena of multi- 
ple personality are full of meaning and import. Far from 
being mere freaks, monstrosities of consciousness, they are 
in fact shown to be necessary manifestations of the very 
constitution of mental life. Multiple consciousness is not 
the exception, but the law. For mind is synthesis of many 
systems, of many moments consciousness. The phenomena 
of multiple personality are due to disintegration of mental 
synthesis, to dissociation of many complex systems. In- 
stead of being neglected by psychology, these phenomena, 
on the contrary, should form its very basis. One great 
364 



SECONDARY PERSONALITY 365 

principle must be at the foundation of psychology, and 
that is the synthesis of multiple consciousness in normal, 
and its disintegration in abnormal mental life. 

The consideration of the importance of the phenomena 
of double and multiple personality induces me to under- 
take here the work of analysis, however brief, in order to 
bring out the main points of their agreement and differ- 
ence. An analysis of these cases, along with the experi- 
mental study of the Hanna case already presented to the 
reader in previous pages, may help us to formulate the 
law of the phenomena known as "double or multiple con- 
sciousness. ' ' 

We may begin with the following case, reported by Dr. 
Osborne in The Medico-Legal Journal for 1894: 

"The subject was a man of muscular, somewhat angular 
outline, past middle age, in admirable health, and so far 
as is known free from any personal or inherited neuro- 
pathic taint. For many years he had resided in a thriving 
town near Philadelphia, and by strict application to his 
trade as tinsmith and plumber, had accumulated consider- 
able means. With these resources he at last opened up an 
establishment of his own, and, being singularly industrious 
and straightforward, he prospered steadily in his business. 
As his sons grew up they shared in the business, and at the 
time of his disappearance had materially assisted him in the 
execution of some large contracts, from which he realized 
handsome profits. For years he had enjoyed ordinarily 
good health, and was not known to possess any eccentrici- 
ties or morbid tendencies. His domestic relations were har- 
monious, his social position better than ever before, and he 
was not known to have any secret, immoral, or illicit indul- 
gences of any kind whatever. 

"The Sunday of his disappearance he remained in 
the house all day, as it was a dull, gloomy November day, 
engaged mainly in reading and in play with his younger 
children, to whom he was greatly attached. About four 



366 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

o'clock in the afternoon he got up from the lounge on 
which he had been reclining, reading, changed his house- 
jacket for an ordinary business-day coat, slipped on an 
easy pair of shoes, and, to his wife's questions, stated he 
was going out for a short walk in the street 'for a little 
fresh air.' Noting the time, she cautioned him not to go 
far, as they would soon have dinner. He promised not to 
keep them waiting, declared he would be back in a few 
moments, and that he was only going for a little turn in the 
main street, on which his house faced. He quietly and 
leisurely stepped outside the door, and although a conspic- 
uous figure in the town and perfectly well known to nine- 
tenths of the people of the vicinity, he disappeared as mys- 
teriously as though he had, as they say, ' vanished into thin 
air.' None of the townspeople saw him, although the 
streets were alive with the usual Sunday afternoon strollers. 
He left no trace. Rewards and detectives proved unavail- 
ing. When it was necessary to wind up the affairs of the 
establishment, it was found that he had taken no money, 
but that his wife and family were handsomely provided for. 
In due course of time the business was finally disposed of, 
the property sold, and the wife and family removed to Chi- 
cago. The family gave up all hope of ever finding even a 
clew to the long-lost husband and father. 

"Two years had almost passed when, in a tin-shop in a 
town in one of the far Southern States, where a number of 
men were engaged at their trade, suddenly one of them 
dropped his work and cried, as he pressed his hand to his 
head in a dazed, bewildered way : ' My God ! where am I ? 
How did I come here? This isn't my shop. Where am I? 
What does it mean?' At first the men were disposed to 
laugh at the reserved man, who had worked for several 
months so quietly by their side, and of whose history they 
had not been able to learn a word, but when they saw his 
changed expression, the perspiration standing on his brow, 
his nervous twitchings, and noted his piteous appeals, they 



SECONDARY PERSONALITY 367 

realized that it was all something far from jest; as he was 
known as a sober, most exemplary-behaved man, they could 
not charge him with inebriety. They called him by a name 
that was now strange to him, and they insisted he had told 
them such was his name. At last, trembling with sup- 
pressed emotion, he made his way to the proprietor, who 
was quite as much startled by the man's talk and manner 
as had been the men below. After months of wandering 
and of work combined, during which period he had aged 
considerably, he was now awakening from — shall we say 
his somnambulistic sleep? 

"It was with some difficulty that he made the proprie- 
tor understand his true condition or believe his story of a 
Northern home, a family, and a prosperous business. The 
proprietor only knew him as a wandering tinner who had 
drifted into the town, sought work at his trade, was em- 
ployed, proved to be a reliable, skilled and attentive work- 
man, and regarding whose antecedents the proprietor had 
not inquired and the workman had not volunteered any 
statements. Under the fictitious name he had given he had 
been known and paid, but he had no knowledge of the past. 
He remembered nothing. At last a dim recollection came 
over him of that fateful Sunday, his rising to go out, the 
request to come back for dinner, his promise to do so in a 
few minutes, and then all was a blank. He had no money, 
although he had worked steadily for some months in this 
shop and had been paid good wages. What he did with the 
money, it seems, has never been discovered. 

"After ascertaining the whereabouts of his family, he 
made straight for Chicago, where, by the last accounts, 
he was living his usual normal life. Somewhat mystified 
over his realization of the strange freak in which he fig- 
ured, although feeling well and apparently in normal men- 
tal balance, he yet realizes that he has been the central 
figure in some over-strange mental phenomena, quite mys- 
terious enough to make him, at times, doubt his sanity. 



368 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

There are no facts explanatory of the prime cause of his 
disappearance, to account for the failure of his neighbors 
to detect his flight, to explain his wanderings, or to solve 
the conditions of his return to his normal self." 

In The Psychological Review for 1894 Dr. Dana gives 
the following account of an interesting case of double con- 
sciousness that has come under his personal observation : 

"The patient, Mr. S., aged 24, was an active, intelligent 
and healthy young man. Though coming of a somewhat 
nervous stock, there is no actual psychosis in the family. 
He had himself always been well. His habits were good. 
For a year or two before his trouble came on he had been 
subjected to some nervous strain, but it had not perceptibly 
affected his health or spirits. 

"About two weeks before his accident he had some 
financial trouble, and on coming home had a 'nervous 
chill.' However, he seemed perfectly well next day and 
continued his usual duties. On Friday evening, Novem- 
ber 18th, he retired as usual. Next morning, as he did 
not appear at breakfast, a member of the family entered 
his room and found it full of gas and the patient lying 
unconscious in bed. The escaping gas was due to a leak in 
the pipe, as was subsequently found. The stop-cock of the 
gas-burner was turned off, and there was no possible reason 
for or suspicion of suicide. The patient was, as stated, un- 
conscious, the face livid, the lips blue, the eyes open, the 
respirations slow and stertorous, sometimes almost ceasing. 

"The family physician, Dr. Rodenstein, was called, 
and worked over him for three hours before the breathing 
became natural and his life seemed out of danger. He 
became partially conscious by 4 p.m., and to a clergyman 
who had called he talked rationally, but not clearly. Next 
morning he recognized his sister and father, and said he 
thought he was losing his mind. In the afternoon he be- 
came somewhat delirious. He slept that night, but during 
the succeeding six days his mind wandered and he was ap- 



SECONDARY PERSONALITY 369 

parently distressed and excited. He was oppressed with 
the idea that someone wanted to take him away and do him 
bodily injury. He talked about a trip he had been expect- 
ing to make to Washington, and called for his time-tables. 
He spoke also about his business and of various plans he 
had been intending to carry out. On Tuesday, four days 
after the accident, he was seen trying to read a newspaper 
upside down. On the eighth day he was taken to Dr. Gran- 
ger's sanitarium. He went without trouble, though he was 
still somewhat excited and maniacal. That night he slept, 
and next morning awoke free from any signs of mania. He 
was quiet and sane in every way. 

"From this time the evidences of his amnesia and 
changed personality were apparent. He dressed himself 
neatly and with his usual attention to his toilet, under- 
standing apparently the use of the various articles of 
dress. He showed by his conversation at once that he 
did not know who he was or where he was, and that his 
conscious memory of everything connected with his past 
life was gone. His vocabulary at first was very limited; 
he could only use familiar words, and could only under- 
stand language of the simplest character, such as that 
bearing on the things immediately about him. He did 
not know the names or uses of the things in and about the 
house, though he at once remembered and never forgot any 
name told him. Consequently his vocabulary and under- 
standing of conversation rapidly increased. He had a Ger- 
man attendant, and pronounced many of the new words 
with a German accent. Everything had to be explained to 
him, such as the qualities and uses of the horse and cow and 
of the various articles about the house. Yet he would sit 
at the table and eat his meals with his former neatness, pre- 
serving also the courtesies and amenities of a gentleman, 
but he could not understand why he did certain things until 
it was explained. He did not recognize his parents or sis- 
ters or fiancee, though he said that he had always known 
25 



370 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

the latter, and his great desire and longing was to have her 
with him. He did not remember the slightest detail of his 
former relations with her, and did not know what marriage 
meant or the significance of the filial relation. Those per- 
sons whom he had liked very much before he seemed espe- 
cially glad to see, though he could not explain why. He 
could not read, and did not even know his letters or figures. 
But he soon learned both to read and write simple sentences 
involving ordinary words. 

"His vocabulary was gradually increased, but even two 
months after his accident he could not read a newspaper 
understandingly, except simple accounts of every-day hap- 
penings. He was naturally slowest in understanding ab- 
stract terms. He learned figures and arithmetic very 
quickly and could soon do ordinary arithmetical computa- 
tions easily. He had been accustomed to play billiards a 
little, but played the game badly. He very soon learned to 
play again, appreciating the value of angles, and before 
long he became much more skilful than he had been in his 
former state. He had always been clumsy with his hands 
and never liked mechanical work or showed the least ca- 
pacity for it ; he never could draw or carve. With a little 
instruction from another patient he soon became very skil- 
ful in carving and worked a monogram in the back of a 
brush in a most creditable manner. He also made a shuffle- 
board, doing the work very neatly. He showed, in fine, 
a much greater cleverness with the hands and finer develop- 
ment of muscle-sense than he had had before. 

"He used to play and sing a little. About six weeks 
after the accident, he picked out a tune on the piano, which 
he had known long before, but had not heard or played for 
a year. He did not know what it was, or associate it with 
any early memory. He sang some of his old songs and 
played a little on his banjo. The old musical memories 
were there, but dissociated from any thoughts of the past. 
He was very imitative and his memory for everything told 



SECONDARY PERSONALITY 371 

him was extraordinarily retentive. He had always been 
careful and even fastidious about his person, and he con- 
tinued to be so. His habits of courtesy and affability con- 
tinued the same. 

"He had had some religious upheavals in the past. Two 
or three years before he was distinctly and positively atheis- 
tical ; later he was more inclined to theism and agnosticism. 
In an argument which I undertook with him to test his log- 
ical powers and knowledge of abstract ideas he showed a 
distinctly atheistical state of mind. His views were those 
held some years previously, not his later ones. In argu- 
ment he showed considerable dialectic skill and logical 
power. But he evidently could not understand any concep- 
tions at all abstract. His 'mind stuff' was made up of 
conceptions closely related to his recently acquired prac- 
tical knowledge. He had previously acquired a special re- 
pugnance to any form of religion, and he showed this feel- 
ing of antagonism in his conversation. 

"He was even-tempered and obliging. He had never 
been demonstrably affectionate, and was not in his new 
state except as regards his fiancee, about whom his thoughts 
and feelings were intensely centred. 

' ' If one were to meet him and discuss ordinary topics, he 
would show no evidence of being other than a normal man, 
except that he might betray some ignorance of the nature 
or uses of certain things. His conversation ran chiefly on 
the things he did every day and on the new things he every 
day learned. He was exactly like a person with an active 
brain, set down in a new world, with everything to learn. 
The moon, the stars, the animals, his friends, all were mys- 
teries which he impatiently hastened to solve. He was 
somewhat sensitive to his condition and did not like to meet 
persons whom he had known before. He cherished also a 
lurking suspicion that someone might want to take his 
fiancee away from him. But he never was in a passion, 
never became incoherent or delirious, had no delusions 



372 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

or hallucinations, and was not in the slightest degree 
demented. 

"He spoke of his own mental condition, and seemed to 
understand that it was not right. He was very anxious to 
get well. 

"Physically his health was perfectly good. He had no 
anaesthesia of the skin, no limitation of visual or aural fields, 
no stigmata of a trance or hysterical state. He slept well, 
and so far as I know had no dreams. He had a tendency 
to coldness and redness of the extremities, and there was 
evidently lack of vasomotor tone. At times, when a little 
excited, he would move his head constantly from side to 
side, as if working in an uncomfortable collar. This was a 
violent exaggeration of a habit I observed that he had when 
in his normal condition. 

' ' On three occasions I hypnotized him, using the methods 
of Braid and Bernheim combined. On the second and third 
trial I put him in a light degree of hypnotic sleep. During 
this I told him that after waking at a certain signal he 
would go through certain acts, such as rubbing his eyes, 
walking about the table, opening the door and giving a 
certain greeting to his mother. Also that at a certain hour 
in the evening he would remember the past. He did every- 
thing that I suggested except the last. At the time named, 
in the evening, he simply said, without suggestion, 'Dr. 
Dana told me to remember something, but I can't do it.' 

' ' I saw him once or twice a week at my office. He con- 
tinued in much the same state day after day. His knowl- 
edge increased so that he was able to go about alone to a 
considerable extent, and I had begun to advise his going 
to his old place of business and learn something of his 
old work. 

"At the suggestion of Professor Josiah Eoyce, to whom 
I gave some account of the case, I told him to get some of 
his old love-letters and copy them ; also to copy some of the 
prayers that he used to say daily as a boy, and finally to 



SECONDARY PERSONALITY 373 

get some of his old business accounts and copy them off; I 
was in hopes that some of these things might revive old 
memories by appealing to his affections, his religion, and 
his business instincts. He did this, but with no apparent 
success. 

"On February 15th, Friday evening, exactly three 
months from the time of his attack, he went to see his 
fiancee. She thought after the interview that he was rather 
worse, less like himself. She cried that night when he left, 
thinking he would never get well. While riding home, 
with his brother, he said he felt as though one-half of his 
head was prickling and numb ; then the whole head, then he 
felt sleepy and was very quiet, but did not fall asleep. 
When he got home he became drowsy and was carried to 
bed, where he fell asleep. At about 11 o'clock he awoke and 
found his memory restored. He remembered distinctly the 
events of three months ago ; his visit to his fiancee, his sup- 
per at the club afterward, his journey home, his shutting 
his bedroom door and getting into bed. His memory 
stopped there. He did not recall a thing that had occurred 
between times. 

"He knew all his family at once and was plainly just 
the same man as before. But the three months were an en- 
tire blank to him. Next day he came to see me, but did not 
know me (I had never seen him before his accident). Not 
a thing connected with the three months could be recalled. 
It was so much taken entirely out of his existence. He at 
once resumed his old work and habits and has continued 
perfectly well up to the present time." 

This is one of the simple cases of double personality. 
The patient lost consciousness due to the action of a toxic 
stimulus and when he awoke a whole tract of his life expe- 
rience was gone. Memories of his former life were swept 
away from the domain of his upper consciousness and sub- 
merged into the subconscious. The lost tract of conscious- 
ness seemed to have involved a large mass of psychic con- 



374 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tent, inasmuch as but the simplest systems were preserved to 
the upper consciousness, while the more complex were erased 
from his conscious memory. Apparently new systems had to 
be developed, new adaptations to the complex conditions of 
the environment had to be learned. The process of acquisi- 
tion, as it is usually the case with such forms of amnesia, is 
rather accomplished with extraordinary ease and rapidity, 
clearly showing that the old content is really present in the 
subconscious. It is not clear from the account as to 
whether the patient had some general feeling of recogni- 
tion or familiarity in the process of learning by the help of 
his attendants. As far, however, as it can be judged from 
the report, this feeling was absent. 

The psychic content has become greatly reduced in the 
secondary state; only the instinctive, automatic, secondary 
automatic habits of life, as well as words and phrases of a 
simple character, have alone become the possession of the 
secondary personality. The dissociated moment formed was 
narrow and constricted, as it is the rule with secondary 
personalities formed after a physical or psychic shock. 
The accident giving rise to a state of unconsciousness, 
formed the gap, the chasm, between the two personalities, 
primary and secondary. The state of unconsciousness 
formed the hypnoleptic state which separated two disso- 
ciated moments, two persons. No amount of suggestion 
could bridge over the two dissociated mental states. 

This case, like the rest that follow, has no doubt a full 
claim to double consciousness or double personality, be- 
cause the two dissociated tracts of consciousness form sep- 
arate moments, so to say ; they keep strictly apart ; their con- 
scious experiences do not fuse ; they have their own past, 
present and future, their own retrospect and prospect ; each 
possesses its own chain, indissoluble chain of memories 
which run independently side by side or in alternation; 
they cannot be directly attached to each other, not any more 
than the life and memories of one person can be fused and 



SECONDARY PERSONALITY 375 

organically united with those of another person and form 
one personality of the two individuals. The two streams of 
consciousness cannot be directly bridged over; not even 
hypnosis suffices. One may know of the other by informa- 
tion, but they are not directly conscious of each other. The 
two dissociated personalities, with a common stock of in- 
stincts, form a kind of mental dicephalus; they are like 
two individuals with a common organism between them. 



CHAPTER XX 

THE REAWAKENING OF THE SECONDARY PERSON 

In the preceding cases, the secondary personality ap- 
peared but once and then disappeared from life activity. 
Can it be shown that such a personality once formed in the 
womb of the subconscious and born and grown up in full 
consciousness and finally disappearing from life, is really 
not dead, but only submerged in the subconscious? Can 
this seemingly dead and buried personality be resurrected 
and brought to light, be made once more to enter the cycle 
of life and then be submerged again into the same obscurity 
whence it came, like the shade of Samuel recalled by the 
witch of Endor 1 ? 

Yes, this can be done, and in fact it has been accom- 
plished. As examples, we may take the following inter- 
esting cases: 

The striking case of Ansel Bourne, described by Pro- 
fessor James in his "Psychology" and reported in "The 
Proceedings for Psychic Research," is very interesting and 
clearly demonstrates the possible resurrection of the en- 
tranced and apparently dead secondary personality. 

' ' The Rev. Ansel Bourne, of Greene, R. I., was brought 
up to the trade of a carpenter ; but in consequence of a sud- 
den temporary loss of sight and hearing under very peculiar 
circumstances, he became converted from atheism to Chris- 
tianity just before his thirtieth year, and has since that time 
for the most part lived the life of an itinerant preacher. 
He has been subject to headaches and temporary fits of 
depression of spirits during most of his life, and has had a 
few fits of unconsciousness lasting an hour or less. He also 

376 



THE SECONDARY PERSON 377 

has a region of somewhat diminished cutaneous sensibility 
on the left thigh. Otherwise his health is good, and his 
muscular strength and endurance excellent. He is of a firm 
and self-reliant disposition, a man whose yea is yea and his 
nay nay; and his character for uprightness is such in the 
community that no person who knows him will for a mo- 
ment admit the possibility of his case not being perfectly 
genuine. 

"On January 17, 1887, he drew $551 from a bank in 
Providence with which to pay for a certain lot of land in 
Greene, paid certain bills and got into a Pawtucket horse- 
car. This is the last incident which he remembers. He did 
not return home that day, and nothing was heard of him 
for two months. He was published in the papers as missing 
and foul play being suspected, the police sought in vain his 
whereabouts. On the morning of March 14th, however, at 
Norristown, Pa., a man calling himself A. J. Brown, who 
had rented a small shop six weeks previously, stocked it 
with stationery, confectionery, fruit, and small articles, 
and carried on his quiet trade, without seeming to any- 
one unnatural or eccentric, woke up in a fright and called 
in the people of the house to tell him where he was. He 
said that his name was Ansel Bourne, that he was en- 
tirely ignorant of Norristown, that he knew nothing of 
shopkeeping, and that the last thing he remembered — it 
seemed only yesterday — was drawing the money from the 
bank, etc., in Providence. He would not believe that two 
months had elapsed. The people of the house thought 
him insane; and so at first did Dr. Louis H. Read, whom 
they called in to see him. But on telegraphing to Provi- 
dence, confirmatory messages came, and presently his 
nephew, Mr. Andrew Harris, arrived upon the scene, made 
everything straight, and took him home. He was very 
weak, having lost apparently over twenty pounds of flesh 
during his escapade, and had such a horror of the idea of 
the candy-store that he refused to set foot in it again. 



378 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

' ' The first two weeks of the period remained unaccounted 
for, as he had no memory after he had once resumed his 
normal personality, of any part of the time, and no one 
who knew him seems to have seen him after he left home. 
The remarkable part of the change is, of course, the pecul- 
iar occupation which the so-called Brown indulged in. Mr. 
Bourne has never in his life had the slightest contact with 
the trade. 'Brown' was described by the neighbors as 
taciturn, orderly in his habits, and in no way queer. He 
went to Philadelphia several times; replenished his stock; 
cooked for himself in the back shop, where he also slept; 
went regularly to church, and once at a prayer meeting 
made what was considered by the hearers a good address, in 
the course of which he related an incident which he had 
witnessed in his natural state of Bourne. 

"This was all that was known of the case up to June, 
1890, when I induced Mr. Bourne to submit to hypnotism, 
so as to see whether in the hypnotic trance his 'Brown' 
memory would not come back. It did so with surprising 
readiness, so much so, indeed, that it proved quite impos- 
sible to make him while in the hypnosis remember any of 
the facts of his normal life. He had heard of Ansel Bourne, 
but 'didn't know as he had ever met the man.' When 
confronted with Mrs. Bourne, he said that he had 'never 
seen the woman before,' etc. 

"On the other hand, he told of his peregrinations during 
the lost fortnight, and gave all sorts of details about the 
Norristown episode. The whole thing was prosaic enough ; 
and the Brown personality seems to be nothing but a rather 
shrunken, dejected and amnesic extract of Mr. Bourne 
himself. He gives no motive for the wandering except 
that there was 'trouble back there' and he 'wanted rest.' 
During the trance he looks old, the corners of his mouth 
are drawn down, his voice is slow and weak, and he sits 
screening his eyes and trying vainly to remember what lay 
before and after the two months of the Brown experience. 



THE SECONDARY PERSON 379 

'I'm all hedged in,' he says; 'I can't get out at either 
end. I don't know what set me down in that Pawtucket 
horse-car, and I don't know how I ever left that store, or 
what became of it. ' His eyes are practically normal and all 
his sensibilities (save for tardier response) about the same 
in hypnosis as in waking. I had hoped by suggestion, etc., 
to run the two personalities into one, and make the mem- 
ories continuous, but no artifices would avail to accomplish 
this, and Mr. Bourne 's skull to-day still covers two distinct 
personal selves." 

An examination of the case discloses a neuropathic 
family history and a psychopathic and neuropathic disposi- 
tion in the patient. His maternal grandfather seemed to 
have suffered from senile dementia. "His father became 
dissipated. The patient, when about thirty, suffered from 
a severe functional psychopathic attack, involving loss of 
sight, hearing and speaking. Since childhood he has been 
subject to "blues," to melancholic attacks and has had 
' ' fainting fits. " 1 It is clear that the equilibrium of the 
associated systems could be easily overthrown by some 
physical or psychic stimuli, even of medium intensity. 
Such a stimulus was sure to come some time or other; it 
came at last in the form of "trouble back there." The 
patient's personality changed. He forgot the events of his 
former life, even his name ; called himself Mr. Brown. His 
natural instincts, later acquirements and even habits did 
not change. He knew how to eat, drink, dress and take care 
of himself ; he could speak, read and write, and could read- 
ily understand written and spoken language. He even re- 
tained his habit of church-going and making sermons. His 
sensibility did not change. The only profound change was 
in his memory and in his character. All the events of his 
former life were completely gone ; he took up an occupation 
for which in his Bourne state he had a perfect horror, and 
he was described by the neighbors as "taciturn." The 

1 See Proceedings of the Society of Psychical Research for 1891. 



380 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

change in his personality was profound, but it still retained 
much of the old content. We must call here the reader's 
attention to the fact that once "at a prayer meeting the 
patient made what was considered by the hearers a good 
address, in the course of which he related an incident which 
he had witnessed in his natural state of Bourne. ' ' 

The patient also presented hypnoidal states, inasmuch 
as the incident was not recognized by him as belonging to 
his past, the Bourne state. Two months later the patient 
woke up in his Bourne state and the whole intermediate 
period was totally erased from his memory ; he did not 
know where he was; he could not recognize the people nor 
the surroundings; everything was strange to him. During 
hypnosis the patient passed into the Bourne state and all 
memory of the Brown state was gone. 

The explanation from our stand-point is the same in this 
case as in the preceding ones. The stimulus ' ' trouble ' ' had 
disintegrated, temporarily, though, the synthetic moment of 
self-consciousness, and another less complex moment took 
possession of the patient, a moment which Professor James 
aptly characterizes as "a rather shrunken, dejected, and 
amnesic extract of Mr. Bourne himself." With the reor- 
ganization of the old systems, the new independent systems 
sunk into the subconscious. Periodicity in the alternation 
of consciousness was absent. 

About three years later Professor James conceived the 
idea of revealing these dissociated systems by putting the 
patient into the hypnotic trance. Sure enough, they did 
emerge, but the Bourne personality could not be reached. 
He had heard of Ansel Bourne, "but did not know as he 
had ever met the man." "During the trance" or Brown 
personality the patient "looks old, the corners of his mouth 
are drawn down, his voice is slow and weak, and he sits 
screening his eyes and trying vainly to remember what lay 
before and after the two months of the Brown experience. ' ' 
When asked insistently for his experiences, the answer of 



THE SECONDARY PERSON 381 

the Brown personality is highly interesting and remark- 
ably characteristic of its mental state : " I 'm all hedged in. 
I can't get out at either end. I don't know what set me 
down in that Pawtucket horse-car, and I don't know how 
I ever left that store, or what became of it." 

It is certainly a pity that the patient was not observed 
in his secondary state, but the hypnotic trance seemed to 
have brought forth in a more or less perfect form the orig- 
inal Brown personality. 

This case becomes still more interesting and instructive, 
because of the experiments that have been performed on it 
and also on account of the persistent attempts that have 
been made to run the two dissociated personalities into one. 
The experiments showed that the Brown personality, 
though complete in itself, knew nothing of the Bourne per- 
sonality, and that when neither of them was present the 
state of the patient was that of indifferent aggregation of 
moment consciousness characteristic of hypnosis. "It is 
mixed up now," is the answer, or he makes no reply at all 
and simply sighs. 

Professor James is right in summing up the case by the 
sentence, "Mr. Bourne's skull covers two distinct person- 
alities. ' ' Two independent systems were formed within the 
mind of the patient. One belonged to his waking and one 
to his subconscious life. When one was removed, the other 
emerged. Usually the subconsciousness revealed in the 
hypnotic trance is, as we have pointed out, an indifferent 
aggregation of moments, any one of which can temporarily 
assume a leading part. Not so is it in the case of Mr. 
Bourne. In him the subconscious is under the lead of a 
more or less organized parasitic moment entirely dissoci- 
ated from the waking synthetic moment. That is why hyp- 
nosis could not possibly effect a synthesis of the two dis- 
sociated moments. The waking state could give nothing 
else but Mr. Bourne 's personality ; the hypnotic could only 
give Mr. Brown's personality. By means of hypnotization, 



382 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

therefore, the two dissociated moments could not possibly 
be unified in one synthesis. Hypnosis alone is not sufficient 
to effect a synthesis of two dissociated moments. Had 
Professor James, however, induced a frequent alternation 
of the two personalities and had he prolonged the first 
period of the intermediary state, the passing of the primary 
into the secondary state, so as to let Mr. Bourne catch a 
glimpse of Mr. Brown, he would probably have got better 
results. He would no doubt have got satisfactory results 
had he given to the patient while in the Brown state some 
strong toxic stimulus, and then induced alternation, pro- 
longing the first period of the intermediary state. 



CHAPTER XXI 

ALTERNATING DOUBLE PERSONALITY 

Thus far we have dealt with eases presenting only one 
attack of double consciousness. We turn now to cases where 
such attacks are periodical. We begin with a brief account 
of the well-known case of Felida X., reported by M. Azam : 

The patient is of psychopathic disposition. She suffers 
from various nervous troubles, from uncertain pain and 
hemorrhage from the lungs. Under the influence of some 
strong stimulus, such as a violent emotion, the patient has 
a tendency to pass into a secondary state. This is preceded 
by some sort of aura, a feeling of throbbing pain in the 
temples. The patient then falls into a short but deep sleep, 
from which no stimuli, however strong or painful, can pos- 
sibly rouse her. This is the hypnoleptic state, the inter- 
mediate condition that separates the primary from the sec- 
ondary state. The hypnoleptic state lasted at first about 
ten minutes, but afterward became shorter, until it was 
reduced to but a few seconds. 

The primary and secondary states differ widely. In the 
primary state the patient suffers from various illnesses of 
functional nature; she is depressed, morose, not communi- 
cative, has a decided eagerness for work and has no memory 
whatever of what has occurred in the secondary state. In 
the secondary state, on the contrary, she is gay, lively, 
haughty, confident, free from functional troubles, and has 
memory for both secondary and primary states. Her nat- 
ural instincts, her acquirements and many of her habits re- 
mained unchanged in both states. The only changes were 
in character, in disposition, in memory and in the general 
organic sensibility. 

383 



384 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

In this case we meet the phenomena of mental alterna- 
tion, a condition not found in the previous cases. This al- 
ternation covers a period of many years. At first the sec- 
ondary state was but rare and of short duration, but in the 
course of time became more frequent, of longer duration, 
and at last became the patient's natural state. Thus the 
second condition, according to the account, at first occupied 
about a tenth part of her life ; then it became equal to her 
normal life; then it filled almost her whole existence, the 
primary state appearing only at very short intervals. When 
the secondary state came to occupy most of the patient's 
life, it gradually changed as to mood and disposition, not 
presenting such a marked contrast to the primary state. 

It is interesting to observe the fact that the patient also 
presented a third state. She fell asleep in the usual way 
and woke up, not in any of the two states, but in some pe- 
culiar state, the leading trait of which was great fright. In 
this state she knew no one but her husband. This psychic 
condition must have been some sort of hypnoidic state. That 
the patient did have hypnoidic states we can judge from 
the fact that ' ' her slumber is often troubled by dreams and 
nightmares." It is a pity that M. Azam did not make a 
thorough investigation of the patient's dreams in her pri- 
mary state, when all memory of the secondary state was 
absent. An investigation of such a nature would no doubt 
have revealed the presence of hypnoidic states, reproduc- 
tion in the primary state of moments belonging to the 
secondary state. 

Had M. Azam not permitted the hypnoleptic state to 
become shorter; had he, on the contrary, directed his en- 
deavors to the prolongation of the hypnoleptic state and 
had he tried by means of psychological as well as physio- 
logical stimuli to bring about a more frequent alternation 
of the primary and secondary states, the poor woman would 
have been saved from the affliction of mental alternation. 
This was precisely the method followed in the Hanna case. 



ALTERNATING DOUBLE PERSONALITY 385 

From the therapeutic stand-point alone the Hanna case will 
remain one of the most important cases in psychopathol- 
ogy. It was the first case in which the importance of the 
hypnoleptic state for therapeutic purposes was pointed 
out, and the possibility of scientific treatment and control 
in cases which until now were considered as outside the 
domain of therapeutics was clearly demonstrated. 

To return, however, to our case in hand. We must draw 
the reader 's attention to the highly significant fact that the 
primary state, though appearing sometimes after a strong, 
violent emotion or trouble, still invariably appeared dur- 
ing sleep. Not so is it with the change from the primary 
to the secondary state. In this latter change, the patient 
passed through the intermediary hypnoleptic state. 

The interesting point here is the relation of the two 
states. While the secondary state could remember the ex- 
periences of the primary state, the latter had no memory 
of the secondary state. The case is somewhat complicated. 
For while there is dissociation in one state there is no such 
dissociation in the other state. The secondary seems to 
synthetize the primary, but not the reverse. If, however, we 
look at the case somewhat more closely, we find that the 
states are really dissociated. For although the patient in 
the secondary state knew of the events of the primary state, 
still she regarded that primary state as "the other," as 
"the attack," as "the crisis." She had always maintained 
that the state, whichever one she happened to be in when 
one spoke to her, was the normal one, which she called the 
rational state, in opposition to the other one, which she 
called "the crisis." In whichever state she was, she con- 
sidered the remaining one the abnormal, the opposite, "the 
other" one. The difference only is that while in the sec- 
ondary state she subjectively could recall "the other," in 
the primary state the subjective knowledge, the recollec- 
tion of that "other" was totally lacking. 

The secondary state represents here a complex moment 
26 



386 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

of consciousness with a rich content, so that while the mem- 
ory-experiences of the primary state representing another 
moment consciousness with a narrower circle of psychic life 
are partly synthetized by the secondary moment, the con- 
tent of the latter is not synthetized by the primary moment. 
The secondary moment, while synthetizing the content of 
the primary one, regards at the same time the primary mo- 
ment as another, as distinct and separate from itself. The 
functioning constellations of neurons, having the secondary 
state as their concomitant, are able also to awaken in the 
constellations of neurons, having as concomitant the pri- 
mary state, those neural conditions the correlatives of which 
are memory-experiences, and are transmitted as such by 
association-paths to the secondary constellation. The sec- 
ondary moment then remembers that the experiences hap- 
pened not within its own past, but within the past of the 
other, of the primary moment. 1 

1 Dr. Prince maintains that a patient put into trance really manifests 
her full healthy normal self in which all the experiences are synthetized. 
This is true in some cases, while in others, such as Ansel Bourne and many 
similar cases, hypnosis brings out different persons with partial content. 
But even with fully synthetized content, there is still double personality, 
since the trance personality regards the life experience of the waking person 
as not belonging to its own life. 



CHAPTER XXII 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 



To illustrate the varying nature of these alternations of 
consciousness, I may briefly summarize two English cases 
which have recently been reported. The first is of a girl 
of twelve, who was shown to the Clinical Society of Lon- 
don by Dr. Albert Wilson in January, 1896. x In this case 
there were no less than five different existences, includ- 
ing the normal, and the condition is related to hysterical 
somnolence, or, more accurately, to hystero-epilepsy. In 
1895 the child had had severe influenza, followed by great 
headache, with intolerance of light and noise, probably 
meningitis, together with mania. After six weeks the head- 
ache disappeared and muscular symptoms of twitchings 
and opisthotonos developed with lividity and coma. She 
had many fits a day. In June the old symptoms disap- 
peared and a fresh train of phenomena appeared. When 
in an apparently normal state, she would shake, turn a 
somersault, and enter a new and different mental state. 
Her memory for all events during health was quite gone; 
but she would remember in one such fit what had happened 
in a previous one. Thus was established a complete dual 
existence. 

By education she learned the names of most things, 
but always employed baby pronunciation. She would 
write backward, and that quickly. When these attacks 
developed, she lost all power of walking or standing 
till about August, 1895. In the early stage she had fits of 

1 Brit. Med. Journal, February 1, 1896. 

387 



388 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

catalepsy, chiefly rigidity of the flexors. At times she had 
five or six fits a day, lasting a few minutes, and at her worst 
periods they lasted for days. She recovered from them 
quite suddenly, was never surprised at her surroundings, 
but very composed, and said she remembered nothing of 
what had occurred during the attack. The most striking 
feature was once when she had severe toothache during an 
attack. Dr. Wilson gave her chloroform and removed two 
teeth. On regaining consciousness, she recognized that the 
teeth and pain were gone. Her father hypnotized her and 
brought her to the normal state, when she made the dis- 
covery of the blood and the loss of the teeth, but she never 
remembered the previous pain or taking chloroform. There 
had been many variations, and she had four different ex- 
istences besides the normal: (1) "Nib," for "Old Nick," 
when she had violent passions, and would bite or slide down 
the banisters; (2) "dreadful wicked thing," when every- 
thing was reversed, black being white, asleep being awake, 
the head being the foot, and so on; (3) "Allie," when she 
was amiable and good; (4) her ordinary fits, as already 
described. Other phenomena occasionally occurred. Thus, 
she was at times completely deaf and dumb, or at times she 
manifested loss of memory, so that she did not know those 
whom she ordinarily knew during the fits. Her general 
health and nutrition were good. Treatment had been rest 
and quiet and fresh air. Two years later, however, her 
condition remained the same. 

The following case of apparently multiple personality 
in the insane, brought for study to my laboratory by Dr. 
Frost, may be of interest : 1 

Mary E. Vaughn, aged 22 (in 1891), single; born in 
Ohio ; one cousin epileptic. Was admitted to Buffalo State 
Hospital July 27, 1891; in good bodily condition; weight 
180 pounds. She had been an inmate of the State Hospital 
at Warren, Pa., for three years. 

1 The hospital notes were sent to me by Dr. Frost. 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 389 

She was discharged from the Warren Hospital as cured 
of epilepsy with mental disturbance, and remained ap- 
parently well for five months, after which she suffered 
again from epileptic seizures, which were said to recur with 
marked regularity at intervals of two weeks, every alter- 
nate attack coinciding with a menstrual period. During 
the attacks she would pound her head and otherwise injure 
herself if not restrained; afterward had no recollection of 
anything that had taken place during the attacks. 

The following note was furnished by her brother re- 
cently : 

Ancestors were all healthy people, there being no 
knowledge of insanity or convulsions of any kind in the 
family. Her mother, however, had an uncontrollable tem- 
per, and during some of her attacks of temper would beat 
Mary and shut her out of doors, no matter what the 
weather was. Until about the age of thirteen she was per- 
fectly healthy, but at that time caught a heavy cold. The 
first appearance of her convulsions was at night, and for 
several days previous she had been rather melancholy. She 
began by moaning in her sleep, and it was impossible to 
waken her, and she slept for several hours in that way. 
She was attended by a local physician at the time and was 
afterward taken to "Warren, Pa., to a hospital, where she 
remained for a year or two. After her return home she 
took patent medicines and then went to the Buffalo State 
Hospital. Her brother does not believe that she expressed 
the idea that her personality was changed while at home, 
as he had never heard of it. 

On the evening of her arrival at this hospital, she had 
a series of convulsions characterized by opisthotonos and 
without frothing at the mouth or biting of the tongue. 
These attacks recurred oftener than every two weeks — 
sometimes daily for several weeks — always attended by sui- 
cidal attempts and succeeded by a period of calm, during 
which she was childish and played with dolls and trinkets, 



390 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

and was pleasant and easily managed. It was noticed that 
she had no recollection of the attack, but no mention of 
any symptom unusual in cases of epilepsy was made in her 
case until July, 1893, two years after her arrival at the hos- 
pital. At that time the following note was written : ' ' Has 
had a series of convulsions and has been suicidal for a 
long time. Has been careless, abusive, very cross and ir- 
ritable, entirely unlike her former self. She came to her- 
self on awakening this morning. Has no recollection what- 
ever of what has passed since about 11. o'clock, July 12th 
(fourteen days ago), the date of the first convulsion of this 
series. She asks questions about the arrival and departure 
of patients during this time ; greets affectionately, as if just 
returned, a nurse who really returned three days ago, and 
whom she welcomed just as affectionately then as now. 
She is quiet and pleasant, joking, not suicidal, completely 
changed. ' ' 

Atigust 10, 1893. — "Again having convulsions." 

May, 1894. — ' ' Goes from a state of lucidity into a series 
of convulsions, followed by a period of mental obscura- 
tion with suicidal tendencies, which lasts several weeks, 
with great regularity. During these periods is cross and 
irritable and denies her identity." 

August, 1894. — "Lucid periods of shorter duration. 
Had no recollection in one period of what had taken place, 
what she did or where she was, or in fact of who she was 
in the other period or condition. She is a typical illustra- 
tion of double consciousness." 

November, 1894. — "Suicidal after convulsions. Has no 
recollection of herself in a previous state and will not, in 
this condition, acknowledge her name. She continues to 
have occasional periods of frequent epileptic convulsions, 
when she loses her. identity and imagines that an old 
woman is after her ; hears her in the wall. At other times 
is good-natured, helpful, quite coherent." 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 391 

There is nothing additional in the history until Janu- 
ary, 1897, when it is noted that she suffers from incon- 
tinence of urine; being then in one of the convulsive 
periods. From that time until the present time this symp- 
tom has always recurred with the return of convulsions; 
not immediately, but after the convulsions have lasted 
some days. 

The duration of the respective periods is not exactly 
stated prior to 1896. On September 3d of that year con- 
vulsions commenced and her abnormal state continued with 
convulsions until May 9, 1897, with, however, two lucid 
intervals lasting two and three hours each. After "com- 
ing to herself," on this occasion, she still had occasional 
convulsions and was depressed and suicidal for several 
weeks, the first observation of this tendency in her normal 
personality. From July 1st to October, 1897, she was quite 
well, and during the summer went home for a month, as 
she had done several times before for shorter visits. 

On the 5th of October she began to have convulsions ; at 
first only a few ; they became frequent, and after a few days 
she was again in her second or abnormal state, which lasted 
with all the old symptoms until the middle of February, 
1898. She was then well until June 4th, though she had two 
isolated convulsions during April. She had many seizures 
during June, sometimes ten or twelve during the day, grad- 
ually decreasing to one daily, and then ceasing entirely at 
the end of the month. 

During this time she was occasionally depressed, and 
was not nearly so suicidal as formerly, though her abnormal 
personality was as usual. On July 17, 1898, it is noted that 
she "has been herself at short intervals for several days; 
no convulsions since the first of the month." From this 
date to the 26th she had one or two convulsions daily and 
was alternately in the two personalities. Then she was well 
all the time until September 5th, when she had two convul- 
sions and passed into her abnormal state, continuing in it 



392 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

until May 15, 1899, with convulsions almost daily, some- 
times one only — sometimes two or three, and occasionally 
ten or twelve. During this period it is noted that ' ' her con- 
dition this time is different from any previous attack. She 
is not suicidal, but remains perfectly cheerful and works 
actively in the ward. She shows the change of personality 
so often noted previously; calls the nurse and doctors by 
the nicknames which she always gives them when she is not 
herself, but her normal personality does not seem to be com- 
pletely banished as heretofore." 

Note of May 6, 1899, reads : 

"Patient has lost in weight from 240 to 165 pounds; re- 
mains in a clouded mental state, with very frequent but 
light epileptiform seizures, which are without aura; and in 
that, as well as in their character, they differ from the at- 
tacks which she has usually had. Has the same delusions 
about the old woman, which always characterized her ab- 
normal state and always speaks of herself as 'we' instead 
of 'I,' but she appreciates in a measure her connection 
with the other personality, for she feels the death of her 
father and brother, which occurred during this period and 
which in previous attacks she would (probably) not have 
noticed. ' ' 

May 15, 1899. — "Herself; quiet, natural, composed; re- 
members going to Collins, but not returning. Says she was 
well a day or two while there and remembers that. Re- 
members her father's death, but not her brother's, which 
was more recent. Feels well; no headache, no giddiness, 
but is frightened at the changes of personality. The 
changes have occurred several times daily for several days, 
lasting from ten to twenty minutes." 

July 18, 1899. — ' ' Returned to-day from a month 's visit 
at home. Has been quite well mentally since the middle of 
May. Gained nine pounds while at home ; was well all the 
time except for indigestion, which has troubled her a good 
deal from time to time. At times she can take no food at 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 393 

all, and has to live for a prolonged period on a little malted 
milk." 

During August, 1898, in the interval between the attack 
just referred to and the one preceding it, she suffered from 
indigestion, requiring to be confined to a diet of malted 
milk. This has persisted more or less ever since. She has 
always menstruated irregularly and suffered from neu- 
ralgic dysmenorrhea. 

She remained well from May 15 to July 26, 1899, 
when she had eight convulsions. After the first few seizures 
she became depressed, restless and suicidal, and before the 
end of the day had passed into her abnormal state, giv- 
ing the old nicknames to those about her, saying that the 
"old woman" was behind her, giving her hypodermics, etc. 
The next day she had twenty seizures, then eighteen, twen- 
ty-four, sixteen, ten, eight, etc., until by the 1st of Septem- 
ber she was having only one or two daily. 

September 17th was well in the morning for ten min- 
utes, and in the evening for five minutes, and later for 
twenty minutes; then, for two or three weeks, was alter- 
nately in one and the other personality, the normal gradual- 
ly superseding the abnormal, until October 7th. From that 
date until November 7th she was quite well, though she had 
two convulsions during the interval. Had one convulsion 
November 7th and twelve on the 8th. Was "her other 
self" for an hour in the afternoon of the 8th, and again 
from 3 a.m. of the 9th, having twenty-one convulsions on 
the 9th. Was normal about twenty minutes daily from the 
10th to the 15th. 

Since then has been continuously in her abnormal men- 
tal state and has had usually two convulsions daily, some- 
times four or five. 

November 16, 1899. — Says that "we are not like what 
we were once; we don't know what is the matter, but we 
are not like anyone else." Wants to go home while in her 
abnormal condition (as at present), instead of when she 



394 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

"is lost," in order that she may enjoy the visit and have 
some recollection of it, and not be dependent upon what 
others tell her altogether. Has some convulsions now, one 
to three or four daily. Improved physically. 

December 14, 1899. — This morning she is rather ex- 
cited; says that something is going to happen to her; that 
the world is coming to an end ; that she is going to die, etc. 
The reason for this is that last evening, just after a con- 
vulsion more severe than usual, she remembered being at 
home last summer. She was so startled and puzzled by this 
sudden glimpse of her other life that she could not sleep at 
all during the night. This morning the recollection per- 
sists and is quite clear as to details. 

She does not recollect going from here, but she remem- 
bers coming back. She is still haunted by the "old woman" 
and persists in the other peculiarities characterizing the 
abnormal state. She will, however, give her acquaintances 
their correct names, saying "that is what they call them- 
selves." Says she will not call anyone a liar again, as she 
has heretofore, when told of her trips home and other in- 
stances of her other life. Says this perception which she 
has to-day has confounded her so that she does not know 
the true from the false. 

February 1, 1900. — This patient was sent to me in 
charge of a nurse, and was in daily attendance there under 
my observation and that of Dr. Frost for three weeks, dur- 
ing which time her condition was carefully studied and 
numerous graphic records made, and experiments per- 
formed. She improved quite noticeably in mental condition 
during her stay there, as a result of changed surroundings 
and the interest which she took in seeing new sights. She 
no longer suffered from indigestion, had fewer convul- 
sions and very light ones, none in the daytime, and she 
gained in flesh and took on a better color; was more 
cheerful and lost the anxious, worried look which she had 
at first. 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 395 

The following are some of the notes taken while she 
was under our care: 

January 8th. — Patient well nourished, presenting no 
physical anomalies. Temperature normal; pulse 90. Pu- 
pillary reactions normal; tendon reflexes normal, kinges- 
thetic sense normal. In fact, patient gave normal response 
to every test, which included those of sensation, heat and 
cold, and pain. Time localization poor. She does not know 
the date or anything else relating to passage of time. She 
is very suspicious ; is afraid of instruments. In a long con- 
versation she states in reply to numerous questions that she 
has six brothers living and two dead; says that she herself 
feels 53 or 54 years old, but does not know her true age; 
that her name has changed so often that she does not know 
what it is, but "they call her Mary." Cannot write. Can 
read a little. Went to school, but not very long. Some- 
times reads the papers ; crochets and sews usually. Would 
like to know how to read better than she does; is able to 
read letters from home, but can read only writing which is 
familiar. 

Q. Do you dream of your real name and of childhood's 
happenings? A. Sometimes; not very often. 

Q. When did you leave home ? A. Don 't know. 

Q. Why did you leave ? A. Home was broken up. 

Q. Have you any special pains or physical disorders ? 

She replied "Yes," but did not give description. 

Q. Are you afraid ? A. Yes ; afraid of the old woman, 
and we get seared when we get lost so much. 

Q. How long have you been more than one person ? A. 
Since a little while after we came to Buffalo Hospital. 

Q. How often do you feel that you are more than one 
person ? A. We feel so all the time. 

Q. Do you like the feeling? A. No; we would like to 
be as we were once. 

She says that the other persons are in herself; that she 
hears the old woman talking to her all the time; cannot 



396 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tell what the old woman says; the old woman used to be 
her mother ; guesses she is yet ; hears her all the time when 
waking and sometimes dreams of her; the old woman tells 
her only unpleasant things. Asked if she always felt like 
two or more persons, she says that she did not always feel 
so ; formerly felt different. Is afraid to tell what the old 
woman says for fear she will harm her; the old woman 
forbids her telling. Asked how the old woman could talk 
to her when she (her mother) is absent, says that she 
throws her voice here. Patient recognizes that it is impos- 
sible that the old woman should really be here. Says that 
the old woman's voice is distinct, but not loud. She for- 
merly heard many voices but now only one. The old 
woman's age is about 53. "We are not like what we used 
to be. Nothing looks the same. Nothing looks nice any 
more." Explains that she says "we" instead of "I" be- 
cause she thinks she must be more than one person, else 
she could not change as she does. She says that she used 
to walk the floor all the time to keep her feet from getting 
cramped and that she now has no numbness or queer sen- 
sations of any sort. Has been dead five times and was 
a different person each time upon coming to life. Has 
been everything that is wicked. Was Jesse James for a 
long time, and robbed and stole. Jesse James died and 
she was then Mary Vaughn. She is not Mary Vaughn 
now. Afterward she was Jennie Longnecker; did nothing 
wicked as Jennie Longnecker. Jennie Longnecker died and 
she was then Mike Muckey, an Irishman, who drank and was 
wicked and finally died in prison from drinking. Was 
not dead long at a time. Thinks that she is not really re- 
lated to her brothers and sisters, because of these previous 
existences, though at times she believes them to be her 
brothers and sisters. 

Either the patient or the examiner became confused 
about the succession of the personalities mentioned above. 
She explained afterward that their order was as follows: 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 397 

First — The Irishman, Mike Muckey, 100 years ago. 

Second. — Jennie Longnecker. 

Third — Jesse James. 

Fourth — Mary Vaughn. 

Fifth — The present state, in which she does not admit 
that she is Mary Vaughn. 

January 11th. Had one slight convulsion yesterday 
afternoon and three during the night. Had nightmare so 
badly that the nurse had to walk her about the room to 
awaken her. In the nightmare she thought that the "old. 
woman" was after her with a stick and she was running 
to catch up with her brother, whom she saw ahead. He 
would not wait for her. In her sleep she was moving her 
limbs vigorously, as if in the act of running. While pneu- 
mographs tracings are taken, patient constantly makes 
whispering movements with lips and tongue, of which she 
is apparently unconscious. Always denies it when spoken 
to about it. Says that the old woman constantly talks to 
her. It may be that the hallucination of hearing is con- 
nected with this unconscious phonation. Told to count 
mentally, she makes lip movements for each number, and 
when told to think merely of the numbers as called off by 
the experimenter, her lips move in the same way. An 
attempt was made to hypnotize her. She resists the sug- 
gestion of sleep ; has told her nurse that she will fight 
against the desire of sleep and repeats that statement now. 
Says she would be afraid to go to sleep in this room. When 
asked her thoughts, she says she thinks always of the old 
woman, wishing she (the old woman) was like other people. 
This has been her main thought most of her life. The old 
woman is her mother; mother never liked her or any of 
the other children. Mary does not love her mother, but was 
devoted to her father. Mother treated her other children 
badly, but Mary the worst. Supposes mother must have 
hated her. Mother has promised a hundred times to be 
good to her, but Mary does not believe her. Hears the old 



398 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

woman's voice "in her ears"; just the same with both ears 
closed. Has had earache and does now at times have ear- 
ache in both ears very badly. The voice is worse during 
attack of earache. The voice is always more annoying 
when she feels badly from any cause. Dreams often of 
the old woman. Dreams of things which are reproductions 
of actual past events, of being at home with mother and 
of her mother treating her badly, as was actually the case. 
Also sees things in dreams which are not identified as 
actual occurrences in the past. 

Q. Does the old woman give you pain? A. No; only 
talks all the time. Has roaring in the ears sometimes. 

January 12th. — Was put to sleep by suggestion after 
she had gone to bed in her own room. "Went to sleep very 
quietly in about three or four minutes and slept soundly, 
though with sudden jerks and starts. Was awakened after 
fifteen minutes and said she had been dreaming of the old 
woman. She slept for fifteen minutes in the afternoon 
and dreamed that she was falling down between two houses 
and called to her brother George to help her. The nurse 
heard her call out "George" in her sleep. (George is a 
deceased brother.) She went to sleep again after I left 
the room and slept without any starts or twitchings, but 
had five light convulsions without awaking. The convul- 
sions were general, but only momentary, and scarcely 
attracted her nurse's attention. She bites the tongue, 
though, even in these slight attacks. 

She went to sleep readily to-day under suggestion and 
slept quite soundly, but we could not elicit any replies from 
her, and questioning awakened her with a start. Said she 
had been asleep for a minute and that she heard me talk- 
ing to her, but was not conscious of what I was saying. 
Tried again, but could not induce sleep. 

January 13th. — Visited her at her room at 7.30 last 
evening and put her to sleep without difficulty, and suc- 
ceeded in eliciting a few replies from her while in the 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 399 

sleeping state, but the experiment was not very satisfactory, 
as she soon awoke when questioned sharply. She went to 
sleep again naturally about 9.30 and slept until about 12; 
during that time she cried in her sleep while dreaming ; did 
not awake at that time, but later when she did wake she 
told the nurse that she had dreamed the old woman was 
tearing up a picture which she (Mary) treasured. She 
saw and heard her; her voice is about the same in dream 
as it is when heard during the day. She did not sleep 
after midnight; was restless and nervous; had two con- 
vulsions, at 1 and 1.10; could not go to sleep, though 
she tried counting, etc. The nurse put her to sleep by 
rubbing her forehead, but she slept only about fifteen 
minutes. 

January 16th. — Was examined by aurist yesterday, and 
her ears found perfectly normal; hearing acute; bone and 
air conduction normal; drum membranes normal. Poste- 
rior nares and throat quite normal. No source of irritation 
found which might give rise to the auditory hallucinations. 
Her perception of the lapse of time is not perfectly good. 
A certain period seems to her longer than it really is. 

She was ' ' lost ' ' for a while this morning. She says that 
being "lost" is different now from what it formerly was. 
She does not forget what has preceded nor feels as if just 
awakened from sleep. Merely "feels bad," and wants to 
cry. The hallucinations always disappear during the time 
she is "lost." 

Attempts were made to have her quickly formulate a 
sentence containing a given word. It is difficult for her 
to think of anything to say, though she understands what 
is meant. A word was then given and she was asked to 
give a string of words at random. 

This was also very slow. 

Afraid. — No answer. Says no words come into her 
head. Finally said "afraid of old woman." 

Bad. — "Fighting is bad. Drinking is bad." 



400 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

Beating. — "Beating is bad." 

Kicking. — No answer. Says no thoughts arise ; that she 

cannot think of anything. 
Painful. — No answer. 

Hurts. — "Kicking, burning, biting, striking." 
Hitting. — ' ' Kicking, pounding. ' ' 
Who is doing the kicking, etc.f — "People." 
What kind of people f — ' ' Ugly people. Mad or drunk. ' ' 
Do you know of any drunken people ? — ' ' The old woman 

used to drink and others around her drank." 
Who is she ? — ' ' Our mother. ' ' 
Association of ideas when ultimately stimulated refers 

to the central idea of the old woman. Ideation is very 

slow, being inhibited by the said idea. 

Talking. — "You are talking. Old woman is talking. 

We are talking." 

Hearing. — "We hear you. We hear the old woman." 
Running away. — "We runned away from the old 

woman lots of times. ' ' 

Striking. — ' ' She striked us lots of times. ' ' 

Frighten. — "She scared us lots of times." 

Love. — "We loved our father and our brothers." 

Don't love. — "Don't love the old woman; likes her well 

enough ; don 't love her like we ought to ; love her as much 

as she allows us to, though. ' ' 

Counting after it has been kept up for a while will stop 

the hallucination. She counts to herself to go to sleep. 

Also when doing crocheting, etc., involving counting, the 

voice is not so loud and persistent. 

Listening to reading distracts attention from the voice, 

too, but not entirely. Talking has the same effect, but not 

so marked as listening. Watching her nurse and trying to 

learn a new stitch distracts her attention from the voice, 

but not entirely. Any kind of work gives some relief. 

Any ordinary conversation will distract her to some extent. 

Hears the voice most when doing nothing and just think- 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 401 

ing about the old woman. Mere distraction of attention, 
such as watching something or doing something involving 
thinking, is not so effective as employment requiring talk- 
ing or counting in addition to watching and thinking. 
Hears the voice just the same with the tongue protruded 
or with tongue caught between the teeth. During such 
experiments, however, the tongue constantly moves spas- 
modically; twitches. Dreams of the old woman almost 
every night; rarely has a dream without the old woman; 
never a dream without some member of the family being 
in it. 

January 17th. — Put her to sleep last evening at her 
room; she was tired and sleepy at the time; went to sleep 
readily and slept soundly, but did not go into real hypnosis 
— no catalepsy induced. She muttered at times in reply to 
questions — occasionally answered questions directly with- 
out awakening. She said "Jim" was talking to her; that 
she had also a brother named "Will"; that there are six 
in their family; sisters named Ivy and Alice. Would like 
to go home and work. These remarks all in reply to ques- 
tions frequently and insistently repeated. A tendency to 
wake up when questioned sharply enough to elicit an an- 
swer, but if questions were stopped for a moment she would 
go more soundly to sleep again; called out ("Jim, did she 
lock you in there ?'")-. Awakened after half an hour. She 
said she had been asleep and dreamed of the old woman 
and her brothers and sisters. Had a conversation with 
them at home. Did not know of my having talked to her. 
Attempted hypnosis at 11 a.m. Not successful. Whis- 
pering movements very marked while quiet and trying to 
sleep. Eepeats the story of her several reincarnations into 
Jesse James, Jennie Longnecker, and Mike Muckey, all of 
which were previous to her birth as Mary Vaughn. Then 
Mary Vaughn died before she went to Buffalo. She knows 
she must have died because she could not otherwise be so 

changed as she is. She is called Mary Vaughn now, but 

27 



402 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

does not feel like Mary Vaughn. Does not even believe 
that during the times when she is "well" and goes home she 
is really Mary Vaughn, the same Mary Vaughn as before, 
although at those times she does think so. Does not hear 
the old woman at all when she is "well." "When "well" 
and at home she is not really cheerful and like other peo- 
ple, but prefers to stay quiet. 

Jesse James lived about 35 years. 

Jennie Longnecker, about 45 years. 

Mike Muckey, about 60 years. 

Mary Vaughn, about 17 or 18 years. 

It seems about fifty years, although she has been there 
about seven or eight years. Altogether it seems to her that 
it means about 1,000 years. When asked how this can be 
since the figures do not make 1,000 years, she answered she 
was mixed up in the figures in believing otherwise. 

Mike Muckey died from drinking himself to death; 
lived in Ireland ; was married ; wife, Annie McCarthy ; had 
ten children. Does not remember about the death of Jesse 
James; also could not remember about the death of Mary 
Vaughn. Describes aura as before, and says besides that 
she sees little silver stars, and everything goes around and 
sometimes it gets dark. This only with eyes open ; has to 
close eyes for relief. Never dreams about Mike, Jesse or 
Jennie, and never thinks about them now. Says that these 
memories of Mike and Jesse and Jennie came to her first 
after she came to Buffalo. She knew nothing about them 
before that. Nurse says she told the same story in all its 
details six years ago to her knowledge. Mike had red hair 
and whiskers; does not remember anyone who looks like 
him. Knew a girl named Jennie Longnecker, and liked 
her very well. Later said she did know a man named Mike 
Muckey, who lived at Portville; does not know whether 
he was married or not. Knew a woman in Olean, a great 
friend of the old woman, named Annie McCarthy. She 
and the old woman and a man named Holmes used to drink 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 408 

together, and Mary ' ' rushed the growler. ' ' (Holmes looked 
much like Mike.) 

On January 18, 1900, patient was more sure of being 
Mary Vaughn than being any of the other personalities. 
Has had dreams in which the old woman figures largely. 
Patient is now fully aware of the primary states. In the 
primary state, however, patient does not know the other 
personalities. Patient thinks that she is now more right 
about things than the other state with the many person- 
alities. 

Patient continues to have the auditory hallucinations of 
the old woman, her mother. When asked how fast the old 
woman talks, patient answered that the old woman kept 
on talking as fast as she herself did. The patient keeps on 
whispering to herself. The movements of her lips and 
larynx could be distinctly perceived. They ceased when 
patient's attention was fully absorbed in some difficult 
task; then she heard no voice of the old woman. The 
movements were started again when patient was slightly 
distracted, and when left to herself for a few minutes low 
sounds of whispering could be clearly heard. Occasionally 
she even spoke out aloud. When her attention was called 
to the fact of her talking, and she was told what she said, 
she was surprised ; she did not talk ; it was the old woman 
who kept on talking to her. 

This case presents phenomena of multiple personality 
having their origin rather in delusional states. Multiple 
personality, however, can be observed best in cases uncom- 
plicated with insanity. In such cases each moment-con- 
sciousness has its own separate memory not commingling 
the stream of its recollected experiences with those belong- 
ing to the other moments. These different moments can be 
artificially evoked in hypnosis by indirect suggestion, such 
as by the action of the different metals applied to different 
places of the patient's body, or they may be called out to 
function by direct hypnotic or post-hypnotic suggestion. 



404 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

When the patient, however, is naturally passing from one 
state to another there is present a transitory state, the 
attack, the hypnoleptic state. The moments differ greatly 
in character, in disposition and inclination; still much of 
psychic content is common to all of them. 

The case recently described by Dr. Gilbert may be re- 
garded as falling under the category of multiple person- 
ality, although it is quite probable that they are forms of 
hypnotic states. The patient is of a psychopathic dispo- 
sition. The breaking up of personality was occasioned by 
an injury to the cerebro-spinal system. The transition 
from the upper personal consciousness to the subconscious- 
ness, in which the hypnoidic personalities are buried, is 
through an intermediary sleeping or hypnoleptic state, 
while the transition of one hypnoidic personality to an- 
other is by slow gradations, one imperceptibly passing into 
the other, since they are all subconscious. The cases re- 
ported by Dr. Prince, Flournoy, Professor Hyslop and 
others belong to the same type. 

I quote from Dr. Gilbert's account: 

"Family History. — Father living and well. Not much 
known of him or other relatives. Mother died when three 
years old. Cause unknown. One brother living. None 
dead. 

"Personal History. — Age, twenty-two years. Never ill 
until the present accident. No liquor or drug habit. 

"History of Present Illness. — Fell from a barge onto a 
log in the water eight to ten feet below. Struck head on 
left occipital protuberance. Stunned for a short time. 
Rallied and crawled up on the logs. Head burned like fire 
all over. Walked like a drunken man. He was taken 
ashore and started to town. Walked part of the way; on 
street-car the balance of the way. After boarding the car 
and riding a short distance nothing more was remembered 
till in the hospital about three weeks later. When taken by 
the ambulance he was apparently rational, but exhausted. 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 405 

On waking in the morning he would chase rats in the bed. 
On second day after entrance to the hospital he rose from 
bed, said he felt all right, and asked to be discharged. 
He was apparently well, and the discharge was granted. 
His friends noticed he was not normal and brought him 
back the same day. He left the hospital thus three times, 
apparently normal, but he remembers going out only the 
last time. All events previous to that are a blank since 
boarding a street-car after the barge accident. During his 
stay in the hospital in the early part of his sickness he 
would have spells of semi-delirium. Peevish and trouble- 
some at times, generally quiet and orderly. There were 
gathered a few facts in regard to things he did and where 
he went during his first two trips out of the hospital, but 
he could not recall them after they were related to him. 
Throwing the head backward caused things to turn black 
before his eyes. Unusual movements affected his eyes. At 
first almost continuous pain over the eyes and in the head. 
Extremely nervous at times; so much so that pricking his 
ear for blood 'set him on nettles.' 

"The patient's life being largely a blank since the acci- 
dent, and inasmuch as he had unwittingly collected and 
signed a receipt for his wages, and not knowing what else 
of importance he may have done, with the patient's con- 
sent I hypnotized him to ascertain his actions during the 
period which was a blank to him. Hypnosis was induced 
slowly, but successfully in about one-half hour. While in 
the hypnotic state, in muffled voice, in response to ques- 
tions, he gave in detail his life during the time subsequent 
to the accident. Subsequent investigation verified his state- 
ments in every detail so far as memory could serve, for no 
notes were taken, inasmuch as multiple, or even double per- 
sonality was not suspected at this time. To close the hyp- 
nosis I suggested that he would awake when I counted five, 
having previously suggested that at the end of the count- 
ing he would wake and feel perfectly well in every regard. 



406 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

To our surprise he awoke with a start, the very picture of 
fright, trembled like a leaf, demanded where he was, knew 
neither Dr. Cobb nor myself and, all in all, was a picture 
of mental distress. The patient was quieted, and on ques- 
tioning him it developed that we had before us a case of 
double personality. He gave his age as eighteen years, 
never had been in Portland, spoke of events which he said 
took place 'yesterday,' and on questioning it was found 
that he thought it Avas September, 1898. All time and 
events since then were an utter blank. Subsequent de- 
velopments proved that this date was 1899 instead of 1898. 
Previous to 1899 he had a lapse into another personality 
which lasted about a year. Hence the dropping of a year. 
Mere mistake in dates, however, may account for the mis- 
take without reference to the lapse previous. He said that 
'yesterday' (i.e., Friday, September, 1898) he had a 
fight with his father in Glenrock, Wyo., and on being told 
that he was in Portland he asked whether it was Portland, 
Ore., or Portland, Me. The patient being somewhat dis- 
turbed in mind he was put in the ward to quiet down and 
get acquainted with his new surroundings. He knew none 
of his companions in the ward and had to be shown his bed, 
hat, and belongings in general — in short, he was a stranger 
in a strange land. The case throughout presented many 
queer and interesting data, which must, of necessity, be 
omitted in this presentation of it. 

"At 4 p.m. on the same day (April 2d) the following 
history was taken from him, told in a perfectly clear- 
headed and intelligent way: 

"Born December 15, 1878 or '79 — not sure which. 
Born at Nemeha City, Neb. Mother died when he was three 
years old. One brother, one half-sister, one step-sister, 
father, two grandfathers, two grandmothers, and a step- 
mother, giving their names and addresses. Moved to Ne- 
braska City shortly after birth and then to St. Paul, Neb. 
Ran away from home when fourteen years old and went 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 407 

to relatives on mother's side. Omitting details in this 
writing, he went to Blooniington, Omaha, Ashland, and 
finally to Lincoln, Neb., and enlisted for the war with 
Spain. Went as far as Chickamauga and took sick with a 
fever of some kind. Cannot remember how he got back 
to Nebraska, but the first he could remember he was work- 
ing in Oxford, Neb. During this lapse, I learned subse- 
quently, he had been hunted for desertion — the desertion, 
however, not being true desertion, for he changed person- 
alities in camp and left, not knowing that he belonged to 
the army. Omitting details again, he went to Oxford, 
Mascot, Holdredge, and Glenrock. While here his father 
and step-mother quarrelled, and in his attempt to interfere 
he and his father quarrelled. During the quarrel, it seemed 
to him, his father hit him on the head with something. That 
was the last he could remember until he woke up here in 
Portland. There was no headache in this personality. Per- 
fectly well in every way. Refused to take medicine be- 
cause he said it was nonsense for a well man to take medi- 
cine. He never saw but one steamboat in his life, and that 
was on the Missouri River. It must be remembered that 
the patient has lived in Portland since last August. On 
questioning he knew nothing of Portland, nothing of his 
house which he and a chum had built, and nothing of the 
chum or anything related to him. Although he had never 
seen a steamboat except one on the Missouri River, in an- 
other self he had fired on the steamer Columbia between 
San Francisco and Portland and had become very seasick. 
Furthermore, numbers of river steamers and ocean liners 
are to be seen daily in the Portland harbor on the very 
beach of which he has lived since August. Absolutely no 
clew could be hit upon by which to connect him with the 
life he lived in Portland. Letters on his person were 
strange to him, and their contents worried him. 

"The next day, April 3d, with his consent, he was hyp- 
notized, so as to be thrown into his former self again 



408 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

in order to ascertain the events of his life since Septem- 
ber, 1899. Hypnosis was again slowly induced. When 
completely under the hypnotic influence no answers could 
be elicited from him at all. By shaking him after suggest- 
ing his Portland life to him he roused, but in a delirious 
state, raving with headache, complained of two red men 
who twisted his head and begged to be taken back to the 
hospital, supposing he was down-town. This was evidently 
the stage in which he was at times after the accident on the 
barge. No persuasion could quiet him, and to satisfy him 
we told him we would take him back to the hospital. On 
opening the door into the corridor leading to the ward, his 
surprise and alarm at finding himself in a strange building 
threw him into a frenzy of terror, and all we could do was 
to take him back to the dressing-room where we had been. 
Here he quieted down and went to sleep on the dressing- 
table. After about ten minutes I cleared my throat. He 
started up in a fright and began chasing rats on the bed. 
Again I quieted him. After sleeping a few minutes, with- 
out perceptible stimulus he started up again, but on seeing 
me, said in a perfectly calm way, 'Where is Dr. Cobb? 
Did I tell you what I did since the accident on the barge 1 ' 
(Dr. Cobb had been unavoidably called away after he fell 
asleep on the table. With the exception of these ten or 
fifteen minutes there were always from one to six witnesses 
besides myself. ) He was back again in the self in which he 
was before the accident on the barge and knew absolutely 
nothing of the twenty- four hours which he had just passed 
in a different personality. No clew could be hit upon by 
which to connect him with it. He thought it was April 2d, 
and on being told it was April 3d, was somewhat surprised 
and supposed we had kept him hypnotized for twenty-four 
hours. The following history was then taken, the man 
apparently normal except that the old headache was back 
again. His life was traced backward and found to lead 
from Portland to San Francisco, Denver, Cheyenne, Wyo. ; 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 409 

Edgemont, S. D. ; Chadron, Neb., and finally to Glenrock, 
Wyo. Here lie said his father and he had some sort of 
trouble. Could not tell how the trouble arose. His father 
threatened to shoot him and he ran away. 

"Omitting again the many details which are confirma- 
tory and interesting, but not absolutely necessary to the 
narration of the case, he went to Chadron, Edgemont, Chey- 
enne, Denver, San Francisco, and finally to Portland. It 
subsequently developed that he also spent a period of time 
belonging to this life when about sixteen years old, i.e., 
previous to the Glenrock quarrel with his father. In this 
personality he knew nothing of coal-mines, though he had 
been working in a coal-mine in his other personality for 
two weeks previous to the quarrel with his father. Again 
repeated attempts were made to connect the two lives by 
going over, in detail, the experiences as related by him in 
the two respectively, but no connection could be made be- 
tween them. By putting together the two histories there 
still remained large gaps which were unfilled by the experi- 
ences related while in the two respective personalities. 

"The gap from Chickamauga to Oxford and numerous 
others of less importance remaining unfilled and having 
received confirmatory evidence from answers to letters of 
inquiry sent out, I felt sure of a third personality and hyp- 
notized him, April 24th, to throw him into said suspected 
personality. He was successfully thrown into it, and when 
he was aroused from hypnosis into the third state he was 
again a stranger to us and his surroundings. Acting on the 
difficulty experienced in gaining his confidence when he 
awakened the first time in a strange personality, I had 
written letters at that time explaining his condition and 
also a note which he signed to act as corroborative evidence 
of our friendliness, should he in the future wake and be a 
stranger to us. These letters were carried continually in 
his pocket, and were valuable aids in keeping the man's 
confidence in the different personalities. Some time was 



410 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

thus spent in reassuring him, after which the following his- 
tory was taken, unessential details being omitted in this 
report. 

"When questioned in regard to Chickamauga and his 
experience there, he said he did not belong to the army there, 
but there were a great many soldiers all over the fields. 
He said, 'I was awfully sick and I haven't got over it yet.' 
In this personality he suffered continuously with pain in 
his head and abdomen. He was a typical tramp through- 
out, beating his way on trains, and working only enough 
to support life when it could not be done otherwise. He 
described in minute detail his wanderings through Chat- 
tanooga, Nashville, Green Brier, and Springfield, Term. ; 
Henderson, Ky. ; Evansville, Ind. ; Carmi, 111. ; St. Louis, 
Jefferson City, Kansas City, Liberty, Eed Cloud, and Ox- 
ford, having isolated and disconnected experiences in Chey- 
enne, San Francisco, and Portland. Here again repeated 
attempts failed to connect him with either of the other two 
lives. Frequently, in relating his experiences in the three 
different lives, he would come to a certain point in the nar- 
ration, stop and say, 'I can't remember what took place 
then; the next I remember I woke up at such and such a 
place.' In narrating the experiences of a different life he 
would pick up the interval which he forgot in the other 
life and carry you to the point where he said he 'woke 
up,' and then say, 'I can't remember what took place; 
then, the next I remember I woke up at such and such a 
place.' Thus the story of each life contained numerous 
unfilled gaps which would be accurately filled in by ex- 
periences in another life. 

"By taking the three lives and writing the stories as 
they dropped and picked each other up, thus filling up 
the gaps of each, I was able to fill out almost completely 
his entire life from 1879 to 1902. There still remained 
a number of gaps, indicated by the stars in the schedule 
below, which I have been unable to fill out. Thinking 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 411 

that perhaps these gaps might be filled in by getting a 
still more complete history of the three lives, on April 
26th, he was thrown by hypnotism into each of the three 
lives successively and questioned closely in regard to the 
lapses without avail. The histories given were not related 
by him while hypnotized. Hypnotism was used merely to 
accomplish the transfer from one personality to another, 
and the history was then taken during full consciousness 
in the ensuing personality. 

"Once of his own accord and twice by hypnosis he 
passed into a state which could not be connected with the 
other three and in which he was in a state of semi-delirium. 
The subject became impatient and resented the frequent 
hypnotizing, and so it was decided to attempt by suggestion 
during the hypnotic state, accompanied by repeated con- 
secutive narration of the events of his different lives to 
unite them into a unitary consciousness. The attempt was 
made April 28th, and proved gratifyingly successful. For 
a day or two he was still unable to recall a short period im- 
mediately following his lapse at Chickamauga, but later 
that came to him with full vividness. On April 30th, after 
having been hypnotized and the suggestion made that he 
would remember even the events comprising the gaps as 
yet unfilled, he was able to fill in the gap preceding the 
waking on the bluffs above Kansas City and the one pre- 
ceding his waking in Liberty. The other gaps starred, still 
remain a blank to him. With these exceptions he now tells 
a story of his life so continuous that he himself cannot 
tell where the breaks in the continuity used to be. On 
being told that a short time ago he did not know many 
of the things he was now reciting he answered, 'Yes, I did, 
I always knew those things.' It is only when he recalls 
the events of the past month that he realizes there has been 
any change in him. 

"Immediately before uniting the three personalities the 
following chronological tabulation of his experiences and 



412 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

changes of personality was made out and used as a basis 
for suggestion by which to unite the three selves. The 
stars indicate the gaps existing just previous to the time 
the three personalities were united into a unitary conscious- 
ness. These gaps have been partially and tentatively filled 
and classified in a manner to be explained below. The 
dates mentioned have been verified by correspondence. The 
different personalities will be designated by XI, X2, and 
X3: 

XI. Nemeha City, born December 15, 1879 ; Nebraska 
City, six years old; St. Paul, Neb., nine years old; Craw- 
ford, Neb., fifteen years old. Changed in the depot to 

X2. At Crawford, April, 1896 ; Edgemont, S. D. ; New 
Castle, Wyo. On way to Cambria, changed to 

XI. Cambria, "Wyo. ; Crawford, Neb. ; Havensville, 
Kan. ; August, 1896 ; Topeka, N. Topeka, Holton, Havens- 
ville, Kan. ; Nemeha City, Neb. ; White Cloud, Blooming- 
ton, August 12, 1897. Omaha, Ashland, Lincoln, Neb., 
May, 1898; Chickamauga. Changed while asleep under a 
tree to 

X3. At Chickamauga, June 3, 1898. Chattanooga, 
Nashville, Green Brier, Springfield, Tenn. ; Henderson, 
Ky. ; Evansville, Ind. ; Carmi, 111. ; St. Louis, Jefferson 
City, California, Missouri. On train going toward Kansas 
City changed to 

**a. (Probably XI; see below.) 

X3. "Woke up" on the bluffs above Kansas City in 
the weeds. Crossed Kansas River. On freight changed 
to 

**b. (Probably XI; see below.) 

X3. "Woke up" in Liberty, Neb. To his surprise he 
had money in his pocket. Bought ticket to Red Cloud. 
On train changed to 

**c. (Probably X2; see below.) 

X3. "Woke up" in a shock of oats near Oxford, Neb., 
fall of 1898. 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 413 

Xll Oxford, Mascot, April 18, 1899, Holdredge, 
Neb. (Vague experiences recalled at these 

X -j X2 places in all three personalities. Most ac- 
curate and detailed account was given by X3. 
X3 J X2 only knew that he had been there.) 

XI. Holdredge, Neb.; Glenrock, Wyo. Changed to 

X2. At Glenrock, September, 1899; Chadron, Neb.; 
Edgemont, S. D., February 5 to April 12, 1900. Alliance, 
Sidney, Cheyenne, Wyo., June, 1900. Changed to 

X3. In Cheyenne. Bought ticket to Denver. In Den- 
ver changed to 

**d. (See below.) 

X2. "Woke up" on Larmour Street, Denver. San 
Francisco. In barracks asleep and changed to 

X3. Left the barracks and went out into a big city. 
Changed to 

X2. In the wholesale part of San Francisco, Cal. Oak- 
land. On train and changed to 

**e. (Probably X3; see below.) 

X2. "Woke up" in Salvation Army Hall in Oakland, 
San Francisco. Portland, August, 1902. Changed to 

X3. After the barge accident, February 20, 1902. In 
hospital three weeks. Changed to 

X2. Hypnotized April 1st, and changed to 

XI. For twenty-four hours. Hypnotized April 3d, 
and changed to 

X3. Slept and changed to 

X2. Till April 14th. On way from hospital to my 
office changed to 

X3. Took ferry to Albina. Changed to 

X2. At Albina. Hypnotized April 24th, and changed to 

X3. Slept and woke from X3 to 

X2. Hypnotized April 26th, and changed to 

XI. History taken. Hypnotized, and changed into 

X3. History taken, hypnotized, and changed to 

X2. Hypnotized April 28th and XI, X2, and X3 



414 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

" There were other very brief lapses, judging from many 
incidents narrated. Several such lapses occurred probably 
at San Francisco and here in Portland. The lapses **a, 
**b, and **d he was able to fill in after the uniting of his 
three lives. In **a he went to Kansas City, climbed the 
bluffs and went to sleep in the weeds. This was likely XI, 
inasmuch as he started in the direction of his old home, and 
in X2 he knew nothing of his people at this time. In **b, 
as filled in by his united self, he went to Topeka, Holton, 
and Havensville. Here his people would have nothing to 
do with him, and he went to Summerville and then worked 
near Liberty for some time. This must have been done 
when XI, for it is only as XI that he knew anything of 
his people at Havensville. The lapse **c must have been 
in X2, because when in this personality previous to uniting 
the three he said he had been in Red Cloud, but could not 
remember anything about it. In lapse **d he went to Den- 
ver and loafed around for about a week. The lapses **e 
and **f are still in obscurity, but assuming that there are 
only three personalities in the case these lapses must have 
been spent in X3, because he changed to them from X2 and 
XI, knew absolutely nothing of any time between Septem- 
ber, 1899, and April, 1902. 

"Evidence seems to point to the conclusion that what- 
ever personality or personalities he was in while at Ox- 
ford, Mascot, and Holdredge, there was at times more or 
less knowledge of all three selves at those places. In no 
single personality could any specific detailed account of 
his, stay at Oxford and Mascot be given, though in all 
personalities he knew that he had been there. X3 gave 
the most details of any at these places. Either there was 
a certain amount of interfusion of the three personal- 
ities at these places, or else he had frequent changes in 
Oxford and Mascot. Subsequent correspondence with his 
acquaintances at Oxford substantiates the former view. 
Furthermore, he says that while he was asleep in the shock 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 415 

of oats near Oxford he had a very peculiar dream of hav- 
ing been in Red Cloud, etc. It is highly probable that this 
dream was not a dream, but the real experiences of the 
preceding lapse, probably filled by X2 or a modified X3. 
This vague interfusion of the selves or modification of a 
particular self may account for all the lapses and peculiari- 
ties in X3 from Chickamauga. Though there is no absolute 
proof, the data at hand leave one in the conviction that at 
Oxford, Mascot, Holdredge, and probably Glenrock there 
was a partial, if not complete, fusion of the experiences 
of the three lives, which was confusing to him then as well 
as to us now. His acquaintances at Oxford looked upon 
him as insane. 

"Though his experience from Chickamauga to board- 
ing a train near Kansas City was given in the most certain 
and positive way while in X3, and though he had no rela- 
tives that he knew of in this personality, yet it is probable 
that during that time he had inklings of his former life from 
some source or other which led him back to Nebraska. He 
may, however, have learned that he belonged in Nebraska 
by letters in his pocket oj* other means in camp before 
leaving Chickamauga. It seems probable, taking every- 
thing into consideration, that there was slight knowledge 
of his other lives in this personality. 

"That the uniting of his three selves into a conscious 
unity did not insure against subsequent lapses is shown by 
experience later. On May 7th he came to my office feeling 
badly, suffering from headache, and depressed in general. 
I hypnotized him and suggested that on waking he would 
feel better. He woke and seemed better. After sitting for 
several minutes he looked about, somewhat surprised, and 
without any visible signs of change, he remarked, 'Doctor, 
I have been asleep again. ' The last he could recall he was 
entering the building and waiting for the elevator, but how 
he reached my office and all that transpired in the mean- 
time was an utter blank to him. His partner, with whom 



416 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

lie lives, says that such lapses used to be rather frequent 
with him. 

' ' In order to verify the history of the case numerous let- 
ters had been written to parties mentioned by XI, X2, and 
X3 ; one of these letters was sent to the army post at San 
Francisco to inquire as to his enlistment and desertion from 
the army as a result of a change of personality, but no 
answer was received. On May 14th, acting upon information 
gained from my letter to San Francisco, officers from Van- 
couver post came and arrested X, and took him on the car 
to Vancouver, charged with desertion from the army at 
San Francisco. On May 16th, at Vancouver, I presented the 
history of his case to the officials in order to obtain his re- 
lease. After the conference with the officials X was brought 
in. To my surprise he was X2 again; knew absolutely 
nothing of XI or X3 or of his experiences subsequent to 
uniting his three selves. Only X2 was known to him. 
After hypnotizing him and suggesting that he would re- 
member all his life again he woke with full memory of XI, 
X2, and X3 as before he was arrested. 

"So far twenty-eight letters have been received in an- 
swer to inquiries sent to relatives, acquaintances, "War De- 
partment, etc., each and all of which verify most accurately 
the history described. Changes of personality took place 
twice while in the army, and he was recorded and hunted 
as a deserter. He enlisted the first time as XI, the second 
time as X2, and each personality knew nothing of the other 
enlistment. At first these two desertions raised a suspicion 
in us that he might be deceiving in order to cover up his 
guilt, but second thought, on the contrary, confirms his 
duality in the two acts, for a deserter would scarcely run 
the risk of re-enlisting. Furthermore, proof that he had 
changes of personality previous to any connection with the 
army in addition to confirmatory evidence from numerous 
other sources removes any possibility of insincerity on his 
part. Aside from the corroborative evidence, observation 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 417 

of the man during treatment would have been sufficiently 
convincing to remove all doubt. 

"XI was perfectly well, jovial, bright, knew the names 
and addresses of all his relatives and could give an accurate 
account of his boyhood days. He had rather accurate dates 
for everything. Was eager to educate himself, though he 
was only an ordinary laborer as a rule. X2 was quiet in 
disposition, preferred to be alone, had spells of sleepiness, 
always had some headache, knew but little of his relatives, 
and that was learned subsequent to age of eighteen; a 
good mechanic, ambitious, and inventive; desirous for an 
education and distinctly religious in character. All in all, 
his life bore a sad, melancholic aspect. X3 was a typical 
tramp, largely due to the fact, no doubt, that he began this 
life where he did. Though eighteen years old at Chicka- 
mauga, when asked where he came from, he answered 
'didn't come from any place.' Worked only enough to 
exist; severe pains in head and abdomen; always hungry; 
all in all, a lower type of man by far. 

"All three personalities had a remarkable memory for 
details. The same name was retained in all. In addition 
to the three personalities described there was still another 
state which may possibly be a fourth, but each time he 
was thrown into it he was semi-delirious and no definite 
information could be obtained from him. The place of this 
state, in its relation to the personalities described, is diffi- 
cult to determine. In it he raved with pain and was always 
thirsty. This state may account in part for some of the 
gaps remaining unfilled. 

"In his united self he is radically different from what 

he was previous to the barge accident. Previously taciturn 

and fond of solitude, in his united self he became social 

and settled, moodiness disappeared. He still manifests the 

old ambition for an education, though at present he chafes 

under the monotony of his wait in prison until the routine 

of government formalities shall be accomplished. Under 
28 



418 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

the circumstances his ultimate release would seem to be a 
mere matter of time, but the worry and mental excitement 
incidental to his arrest give him almost continuous head- 
ache, and at times plunge him into despondency which 
makes him wish he were dead. 

"After the fusion of his three lives the first time, a 
minute and detailed history of his boyhood and early man- 
hood was taken in order to see if any cause of the trouble 
could be detected. As a boy he received very rough treat- 
ment from his father, but no definite etiology of his condi- 
tion could be discovered. Though changes of personality 
occurred two or three times under what seemed to be a 
definite etiological factor, such as the fight at Glenrock and 
the fever at Chickamauga, yet these things cannot be con- 
sidered the sole cause of the trouble. In the great ma- 
jority of cases his changes of personality took place while 
on a train or immediately following — a fact not without 
significance. 

"The changes from one personality to another were at 
times gradual, instead of abrupt. At times memory of one 
stream of consciousness faded out gradually as the other 
came into prominence. One of the changes which occurred 
in my presence was of this type. Several times in one per- 
sonality short preceding experiences were vaguely recalled 
and thought to have been dreams, showing that at times 
either the different selves overlapped, as it were, to some 
extent, leaving the period of change indistinct in each, or 
else — what is more probable — the events supposed to have 
been dreamed were experiences of the same self under a 
sort of psycho-epileptic seizure. Under the latter suppo- 
sition the gap **c in the schedule above may be a sort 
of psycho-epileptic mutation of X3 instead of a change 
into X2. The whole process throughout might not im- 
properly be called a psycho-epileptic exchange of person- 
ality. 

"The personality, designated throughout this article as 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 419 

the 'united self,' cannot be considered as composed of XI, 
X2, and X3, as constituent parts, but, strictly speaking, 
the so-called 'united self is a new unified experience, 
even as XI, X2, and X3 were originally. This was clearly 
exemplified by the fact that after his return to X2 at Van- 
couver subsequent to the uniting of XI, X2, and X3 in 
memory, he not only knew nothing of XI and X3, but the 
experiences of the so-called 'united self were also a blank 
to him." 



CHAPTER XXIII 

MANIFOLD PERSONALITY (continued) 

Of a somewhat different nature is the case reported by 
Dr. Osgood Mason in the Journal of Nervous and Mental 
Diseases, September, 1893. The disaggregation is deep and 
clear, and the dissociated personalities are well defined. 

"Alma Z. has been under my observation during the 
past ten years. In childhood she was remarkable for her in- 
telligence and unusual endowments. Up to her eighteenth 
year she was in robust health, excelling all her companions 
not only in intellectual attainments, but also in physical 
culture, being expert in gymnastic exercises, skating and 
athletic sports generally. At that time, owing to over- 
work at school, peculiar physical conditions made their 
appearance. Instead of the educated, thoughtful, digni- 
fied, womanly personality, worn with illness and pain, 
there appeared a bright, sprightly child-personality, with 
a limited vocabulary, ungrammatical and peculiar dialect, 
decidedly Indian in character, but, as used by her, most 
fascinating and amusing. The intellect was bright and 
shrewd, her manner lively and good-natured, and her in- 
tuitions were remarkably correct and quick ; but, strangest 
of all, she was free from pain, could take food, and had 
comparatively a good degree of strength. She called her- 
self 'Twoey,' and the normal or usual personality she 
always referred to as 'No. 1.' She possessed none of the 
acquired knowledge of the primary personality, but was 
bright and greatly interested in matters going on about 
her — in family affairs, and everything which pertained 
to the comfort and well-being of No. 1. 

"The new personality would remain only a few hours, 
420 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 421 

but occasionally her stay was prolonged to several days; 
and then her normal self — the No. 1 of 'Twoey' — returned 
with all her intelligence, patience, and womanly qualities, 
but also with the weakness and suffering which character- 
ized her illness. 

"No. 1 and No. 2 were apparently in every respect 
separate and distinct personalities. Each had her own dis- 
tinct consciousness and distinct train of thought and mem- 
ories. 

"When No. 1 was absent and 'Twoey' took her place, 
on resuming her consciousness she commenced at the place 
where her own personality had been interrupted and re- 
sumed her ordinary life exactly at that point. To No. 1 
the existence of any second personality was entirely un- 
known by any conscious experience, and the time which 
' Twoey ' occupied was to her a blank. If ' Twoey ' appeared 
at noon on Tuesday and remained until Thursday night, 
when she disappeared and No. 1 resumed her own con- 
sciousness and life, she would commence at Tuesday noon 
where that consciousness was interrupted. The intervening 
time to her was a blank. No. 2, however, while having her 
own distinct life, knew also the life of No. 1, but only 
as a distinct personality, entirely separate from herself. 
No. 1 also came to know 'Twoey' by the description given 
by others, and by the change in her own personal belong- 
ings and affairs which she saw had been effected during 
her absence. The two personalities became great friends. 
No. 2 admired No. 1 for her superior knowledge, her pa- 
tience in suffering, and the lovely qualities which she recog- 
nized, and she willingly took her place in order to give 
her rest, and, as it seemed, the possibility of living at all. 
No. 1 also became fond of ' Twoey ' on account of the loving 
care which she bestowed upon her and her affairs, and for 
the witty sayings and sprightly and pertinent conversa- 
tions which were reported to her, and which she greatly 
enjoyed. 



422 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

" 'Twoey' seemed to have the power of going and com- 
ing at will. She often left communications to No. 1, mostly 
written (for she became able to write in her peculiar dia- 
lect — very difficult to decipher) , telling her what had been 
done in her absence, where she would find certain things, 
or advising her when she deemed it necessary, and her ad- 
vice was always sound and to the point. 

' ' Under an entire change in medical treatment — change 
of scene and air and the use of animal magnetism and 
hypnotism — health and normal conditions were restored, 
and 'TwoeyV visits became only occasional, under circum- 
stances of extreme fatigue or mental excitement, when they 
were welcome to the patient and enjoyed by her friends. 
Two years later the patient married, and became a most 
admirable wife and intelligent and efficient mistress of the 
household. 

' ' Later on, however, the No. 2 condition, or personality, 
began to return with greater frequency, but at length, 
one night, 'Twoey' announced that she would soon take 
her departure, but that another visitor would come to take 
her place. Presently an alarming attack of syncope oc- 
curred, lasting several hours; and when consciousness did 
at last return, it was represented by a third personality, 
entirely new and entirely distinct, both from the primary 
self and also from the 'Twoey' with whom we were so well 
acquainted. The new personality at once announced itself 
as 'The Boy,' and that it had come in the place of 'Twoey' 
for the special aid of No. 1 ; and for several weeks, when- 
ever this third personality was present, all its behavior was 
entirely consistent with that announcement. 

"Gradually, however, she became accustomed and rec- 
onciled to her new role and new surroundings, and adapted 
herself with most astonishing grace to the duties of wife, 
mother and mistress of the house, though always when 
closely questioned she persisted seriously in her original 
declaration that she was 'The Boy.' The personality was 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 423 

of much more broad and serious type than that of the 
frolicsome 'Twoey,' and while entirely separate in con- 
sciousness and personality from No. 1, she was much nearer 
to her in general outline of character. The acquired book 
knowledge of No. 1 — the Latin, mathematics, and philoso- 
phy acquired at school — were entirely wanting in the new 
personality; the extensive knowledge of general literature 
— the whole poems of Tennyson, Browning, and Scott, 
which No. 1 could repeat by heart, also her perfect famil- 
iarity with the most beautiful and poetic portions of the 
Bible — all of these were entirely lacking in this person- 
ality. In a general knowledge of affairs, however, in the 
news of the day from all over the world, and in current 
literature, she at once became thoroughly interested and 
intelligent, and the judgment was keen and sound. She 
took the greatest delight in every kind of amusement — 
the theatre and literary and musical entertainments — and 
her criticisms of performances and books were independent, 
acute, and reliable. At the same time her household affairs 
and her interest in them and all subjects pertaining to the 
family were conspicuous. 

' ' Of the preceding personalities she was fully cognizant, 
and had great admiration and affection for them both. She 
would listen to no disparaging remarks concerning ' Twoey, ' 
and her admiration for No. 1 was unbounded. Neither 
'Twoey' nor No. 3 ever seemed anxious to continue and 
prolong their visits, but, on the contrary, were always de- 
sirous that No. 1 should regain her health sufficiently to 
get on without them ; and they referred with much feeling 
to the causes which prevented it. 

''The peculiar and interesting incidents which diversi- 
fied these different states of consciousness would fill a vol- 
ume. No. 1, when in her condition of greatest weakness, 
would occasionally astonish her listeners by announcing 
to them some event which they had kept profoundly secret 
from her. For instance: 'You need not be so quiet about 



424 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

it; I have seen it all. Mrs. C. died the day before yester- 
day. She is to be buried to-morrow;' or, 'There has been 
a death over in such and such a street. Who is it that 
died?' 'Twoey's' sagacity, amounting almost to prevision, 
was often noticed, and many a time the neglect to be guided 
by her premonitions was deeply regretted. 'The Boy,' or 
No. 3, frequently exhibited peculiar perceptive powers. At 
times the sense of hearing would be entirely lost, so that 
the most violent noises close to her ears and when per- 
fectly unexpected failed to startle or disturb her in the 
slightest degree, although usually she was easily startled 
by even a slight, sudden, or unexpected noise. Under 
these circumstances she had a peculiar faculty of perceiv- 
ing what was said by watching the lips of the speaker, 
though ordinarily neither she nor the primitive self had 
any such faculty. 

"In this condition she had often carried on conversa- 
tions with entire strangers, and entertained guests at table 
without their having once suspected that all the while she 
could not hear a sound of any sort. I have myself seen her 
sit and attend to the reading of a new book simply by watch- 
ing the lips of the reader, taking in every word and senti- 
ment, and laughing heartily at the funny passages, when 
I am perfectly sure she could not have heard a pistol-shot 
from her head. 

"When the No. 3 personality had persisted for a con- 
siderable period — weeks, for instance, at a time, as it has 
sometimes done — the temporary return of No. 1 under the 
influence of some soothing condition or pleasing sentiment 
or emotion has been beautiful to witness. I saw this trans- 
formation once while sitting with her in a box at the Met- 
ropolitan Opera-House. Beethoven's concerto in C Major 
was on the programme; in the midst of the performance 
I saw the expression of her countenance change; a clear, 
calm, softened look came into the face as she leaned back in 
her chair and listened to the music with the most intense 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 425 

enjoyment. I spoke a few words to her at the close of the 
number, and she replied in the soft and musical tones pe- 
culiar to her own normal condition, and I recognized with- 
out the slightest doubt the presence of No. 1. A few 
minutes later her eyes closed; presently she drew two or 
three short, quick respirations; again her countenance 
changed, and No. 3 was back again. She turned to me 
and said, 'So No. 1 came to hear her favorite concerto?' 
I replied, 'Yes; how did you know it?' 'Oh, I was here 
and listened to it, too.' 'Where were you?' I asked. 'I 
sat on the front of the box. I saw you speaking to her. 
How greatly she enjoyed the music!' and then she went 
on listening to the music and commenting upon the pro- 
gramme in the usual discriminating manner of No. 3." 

The case is certainly very interesting, and in many re- 
spects similar to that of Felida. The two shed light on 
each other. The patient is of a psychopathic disposition, 
and cerebral overwork brought about a weakening of the 
principal controlling constellations of neurons with its con- 
comitant leading synthetic moment consciousness. Some 
strong emotion or some kind of trouble was probably the 
exciting cause that brought about a total disintegration, 
or a disaggregation of the constellation into its constituent 
or subordinate systems and clusters with their correlative 
moments. 

The relation of No. 1 to " Twoey ' ' is somewhat like that 
of the primary to the secondary state in Felida. No. 1 does 
not know "Twoey," but the latter knows the experiences of 
the former, knows them as those of "another," as not be- 
longing to herself, to "Twoey." The content of the No. 1 
personality is in some respects superior and wider than 
that of the "Twoey" personality. Much of the content of 
one personality is also present in the other, such as the nat- 
ural instincts of life, many of the simple acquirements, such 
as walking, dressing, using different utensils for eating, 
talking and understanding speech, knowing articles, and 



426 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

so on. Still, the change is great. In the ' ' Twoey " state the 
patient seemed to have lost her ability of writing and all 
her higher acquirements in literature and in music. There 
was a change in the patient 's language ; agrammatism was 
observed. Her pains and sufferings were gone. The 
change in character seemed to have been profound, from a 
cultivated, thoughtful, dignified young lady there was a 
change to a child-personality, shrewd, bright and sprightly, 
with a limited vocabulary, decidedly Indian in character. 
All the states belonging to the personality No. 1 were 
synthetized in one synthetic moment, and so were also all 
the states of "Twoey." Two moments were thus formed 
within the patient's mind, each having a distinct synthesis 
for series of mental states; in other words, the two organ- 
ized synthetic moments kept on alternating periodically. 
This case, like that of Felida, is one of periodical multiple 
consciousness. 

The two crystallized, independent moments became 
weakened, could not maintain themselves long, and another 
synthetic moment consciousness, "The Boy," got formed 
and temporarily became the leading one in the patient's 
mental life. This was preceded by an attack of syncope 
lasting several hours. "The Boy" personality differed 
both from "Twoey" and from No. 1. It possessed far 
more of the content belonging to the No. 1 personality. 
The behavior of the new personality was consistent with 
its name and lacked the book-knowledge of the normal 
state. In this state the sense of hearing was sometimes en- 
tirely lost, and still she could carry on conversations with 
guests, could attend to the reading of a book and enjoy 
it heartily, although "she could not have heard a pistol- 
shot near her head." The writer ascribes this to a new 
faculty peculiar to this state only, perception of speech by 
watching the movements of the speaker's lips. No such 
new faculty is really required as an explanation for the 
patient's perception of words to which she was seemingly 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 427 

deaf. Her deafness was not of an organic, but of a func- 
tional psychopathic nature. It can be fully demonstrated 
by experiment that in such states the patient, though seem- 
ingly not perceiving, really does perceive. The dissociated 
moments in the subconscious perceive and transmit the ex- 
perience to the dominating, functioning synthetic moment 
consciousness. The patient did hear, and not the sounds, 
but the meaning of the words were transmitted to her 
functioning moment, "The Boy" personality. 

In passing from one personality to another the patient 
seemed to have had a brief intermediary sleeping state 
termed by me the hypnoleptic state ; especially was this so 
in passing from No. 1 into one of the other states. The 
author omitted to describe it, but that such a state really 
existed one can judge from the author's statement that, 
when he was with the patient in the theatre, the No. 1 
personality appeared. "A few minutes later," writes Dr. 
Osgood Mason, "her eyes closed; presently she drew two 
or three short, quick respirations, and No. 3 was back 
again. ' ' 

In this interesting case we find a weakening by disease 
of the upper controlling personality; the subconscious 
gained mastery, rose to the plane of conscious individuality 
and became a person, a "Twoey." The "Twoey" person- 
ality, however, seemed to have been unstable, and a new 
personality, that of "The Boy," emerged. Both "Twoey" 
and "The Boy" were but two different expressions, two 
different individualized manifestations of the same under- 
lying reality — the subconsciousness. It was from the depth 
of the subconscious that those bubble personalities rose to 
the surface of conscious life. 

The following case x gives a well-defined picture of 
manifold personality: 

"The subject, Y. L., is a young man of seventeen years, 
affected with hysterical epilepsy, who entirely lost the 
1 See Kibot, Diseases of Personality. 



428 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

memory of one year of his existence, and during the period 
of forgetfulness totally changed his character. 

"Born of an unmarried mother, who was 'addicted to 
an open life of debauchery, and of an unknown father, he 
began to roam and beg on the streets as soon as he could 
walk. Later he became a thief, was arrested, and sent to 
the reformatory of Saint-Urbain, where he did some field 
work.' One day, being occupied in a vineyard, he hap- 
pened to lay his hands upon a serpent, hidden in a fagot 
of twigs. The boy was terribly frightened, and in the even- 
ing, on returning to the reformatory, became unconscious. 
These crises were repeated from time to time, his legs grew 
weak, finally a paralysis of the lower limbs set in, his in- 
tellect remaining unimpaired. He was thereupon trans- 
ferred to the asylum of Bonneval. There it was reported 
'that the patient has an open and sympathetic expression, 
that his character is amiable and that he shows himself 
grateful for the care that is bestowed upon him. He tells 
the history of his life in all its minutest details, even his 
thefts, which he deplores, of which he is ashamed, and 
which he attributes to his forsaken condition and his com- 
rades who led him into evil ways. He regrets very much 
what has happened, and declares that in the future he will 
be more honest. It was then decided to teach him a trade 
compatible with his infirmity. He can read, and is learning 
to write. He is taken every morning to the tailor's shop, 
where he is placed upon a table and assumes, naturally, 
the classical position owing to the condition of his lower 
limbs, which are atrophied and contracted. In two months' 
time he learned to sew pretty well. He works with en- 
thusiasm, and everybody is satisfied with his progress.' 

"At this stage he is seized with an attack of hystero- 
epilepsy, which, after fifty hours, ends in a tranquil sleep. 
It is then that his old personality reappears. 

"On awakening, V. wants to get up. He asks for his 
clothes, and is able to dress himself, but performs the 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 429 

operation in a very bungling manner; he then takes a few 
steps through the hall, his paraplegia having disappeared. 
His legs totter and with difficulty support the body be- 
cause of the atrophy of the muscles. . . . When once 
dressed, he asks to go to his comrades into the vineyards 
to work. ... We quickly perceive that our subject 
still believes himself at Saint-Urbain, and wishes to resume 
his habitual occupations. In fact, he has no recollection 
of his crisis and recognizes nobody, the physicians and 
attendants no more than his companions of the ward. He 
does not admit having been paralyzed, and accuses those 
about him of teasing him. We thought of temporary in- 
sanity, which was very likely after so severe an attack of 
hysteria, but time passes and still his memory does not 
return. V. remembers very distinctly that he had been 
sent to Saint-Urbain ; he knows that ' the other day ' he was 
frightened by a serpent ; but from that time all is oblivion. 
He remembers nothing more, and has not even the feeling 
of the time elapsed. 

' ' It was thought that he might be simulating, as hyster- 
ical patients often do, and we employed all means to make 
V. contradict himself, but without success. Thus, without 
letting him know where he is going, we have taken him to 
the tailor's workshop. We walk by his side, and take care 
not to influence him as to the direction to be taken. V. 
does not know whither he is going. On arriving at the 
shop he has every appearance of a person who does not 
know where he is, and he declares that he has never been 
there before. He is given a needle and asked to sew. He 
sets about the task as awkwardly as a man who performs a 
job of this kind for the first time. They show him some 
clothes, the seams of which had been sewn by him during 
the time he was paralyzed. He laughs and seems to doubt, 
but finally inclines to our observations. After a month of 
experiment and trials of all kinds, we are convinced that 
V. really remembers nothing." 



430 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

One of the most interesting points of this case is the 
modification that the character of the patient underwent, 
which was a return to his early life and to his hereditary 
antecedents: "He is no longer the same subject; he has 
become quarrelsome and is a glutton; he answers impolite- 
ly. Formerly he did not like wine, and usually gave his 
share to his companions; but now he steals theirs. When 
they tell him that he once committed thefts, and caution 
him not to begin again, he becomes arrogant, and will say, 
' if he did steal, he paid for it, as they put him into prison. ' 
They employ him in the garden. One day he escapes, taking 
with him sixty francs and the effects of an attendant of the 
infirmary. He is recaptured five miles from Bonneval, at 
the moment when, after selling his clothes to purchase 
others, he is on the point of boarding the railway train for 
Paris. He resists arrest, and strikes and bites at the war- 
dens sent in search of him. Brought back to the asylum, 
he becomes furious, cries, rolls on the ground; finally it 
is necessary to confine him in a solitary cell. ' ' 

Dismissed from the asylum, after many peregrinations, 
he is taken to Bicetre, escapes, and enlists in the Marine 
Corps at Rochefort. Convicted of stealing, he is confined, 
at the end of a violent attack of hystero-epilepsy, to the 
care of Messrs. Bourru and Burot, who have studied him 
with great care and obtained in their subject the six fol- 
lowing states: 

First state. Hemiplegia and hemianesthesia of the 
right side. Ordinary state of the subject. 

"V. is talkative, violent, and arrogant in look and man- 
ner; his language is correct, but rude; he addresses every- 
one in the second person singular, and gives to each a dis- 
respectful surname. He smokes from morning till night, 
and besieges everyone with his demand for tobacco, etc. 
Still, he is intelligent. He keeps himself an courant with 
all the events of the day, great and small, affects the most 
antireligious views in religion and the most ultraradical 
opinions in politics. Incapable of discipline, he wishes to 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 431 

slay all his superiors, or anyone even who would exact 
from him a mark of respect. His speech is embarrassed; 
his defective pronunciation permits only the endings of his 
words to be heard. He can read, but this vice of pronun- 
ciation renders his reading aloud unintelligible. He can- 
not write, his right hand being paralyzed. His memory, 
very precise for the slightest details, present or recent (he 
recites whole columns from the newspapers), is very lim- 
ited in point of time. It is impossible for him to carry 
back his memory beyond his present sojourn in Rochefort 
and the last part of his stay at Bicetre in the service of M. 
Voisin. Nevertheless, he has preserved the memory of the 
second part of his stay at Bonneval, when he worked in 
the garden. Between Bonneval and Bicetre a great gap 
yawns in his memory. Beyond this, his birth, his child- 
hood, his sojourn in Saint-Urbain, the trade of tailoring, 
which he learned upon his arrival at Bonneval, are a total 
blank to him." 

Second state. Hemiplegia of the left side (face and 
limbs) with hemianesthesia. 

"On waking, V. is at Bicetre (ward Cabanis, No. II) ; 
the second of January, 1884; age twenty-one; saw M. 
Voisin yesterday. He is reserved in his bearing; his ex- 
pression is gentle; his language is correct and respectful; 
he now addresses no one in the second person singular, but 
calls each of us 'Monsieur.' He smokes, but not passion- 
ately. He has no opinions in politics or in religion; these 
questions, he seems to say, do not concern an ignorant man 
like him. He shows himself respectful and orderly. His 
speech is easy and his pronunciation remarkably clear. 
He reads perfectly well, and writes a tolerable hand. 

"He knows nothing whatever of the events that have 
taken place since the second of January, 1884; he does 
not know where he is, nor any of the persons who surround 
him. He never came to Rochefort. He never heard of 
the Marine Corps or of the war with Tonquin. 

"In evoking his prior memories he recounts that be- 



432 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

fore entering Bicetre he had stayed for a while at Sainte- 
Anne; beyond that point in his life no memory subsists." 

Third state. Hemiplegia of the left side {the limbs 
alone) with general hemianesthesia. 

"The patient awakes at the asylum of Saint-Georges de 
Bourg, August, 1882 ; he is nineteen years old. France is at 
war with Tunis. M. Grevy is President of the Republic; 
Leo XIII. is Pope. His character, his affective faculties, his 
language, his physiognomy, his tastes are like those of the 
second state. As to his memory, he is limited to a prior 
epoch. He comes from Chartres to his mother, whence 
he has been sent to Macon with a large landed proprietor, 
where he was put to work in the vineyards. Having been 
taken sick several times he was cared for in the hospital 
of Macon, then at the asylum of Bourg, where he is at 
present. All that precedes, all that follows this short 
period of his life is totally foreign to him. ' ' 

Fourth state. Paraplegia. 

"He has just seen several persons of the asylum of 
Bonneval. He is decorous, timid, even sad. His pronuncia- 
tion is distinct, but his language is incorrect, impersonal, 
childish. He has forgotten how to read and write. His 
intelligence is very obtuse; his confused memory knows 
nothing of the events of the personages of that epoch. 
He knows only two places: Bonneval, where he believes he 
now is, and Saint-Urbain, whence he has come, where he 
was, he says, paralyzed, stricken down. The whole prior 
part of his life, from his birth to the accident with the 
viper, which brought on his malady, all that followed the 
attack and the spontaneous alteration of his condition at 
Bonneval, are absolutely unknown to him. He does not 
recognize the place he is in, nor has he ever seen us who 
are about him. His ordinary occupation is work in the 
tailor's shop. He sews like one long in the business." 

Fifth state. Neither paralysis nor anaesthesia. 

"He regains consciousness at Saint-Urbain in 1877; he 



MANIFOLD PERSONALITY 483 

is fourteen years old. Marshal McMahon is President of 
the Republic; Pius IX. is Pope. Timid as a child, his ex- 
pression, language, and attitude accord perfectly. He can 
read perfectly well and writes tolerably. He knows his 
whole childhood, the bad treatment he received at Luysant, 
etc. 

"He remembers having been arrested and condemned 
to imprisonment in a house of correction. He is at the 
reformatory directed by M. Pasquier. He learns to read 
at the school of Mile. Breuille. He is employed in agri- 
cultural work. His memory is arrested exactly at the 
accident of the viper, the mention of which brings on a 
terrible crisis of hystero-epilepsy. " 

Sixth state. Neither paralysis nor anesthesia. 

"He comes to consciousness on the sixth of March, 1885 ; 
is twenty-two years of age; he knows the events of the 
times and personages in power ; but Victor Hugo, the great 
poet and senator, is still living. He is no longer the timid 
child of a moment ago. He is a proper young man, neither 
pusillanimous nor arrogant; he is a soldier of the Marine 
Corps. His language is correct; his pronunciation is dis- 
tinct. He reads very well and writes passably. His mem- 
ory embraces his whole life with the exception of one 
epoch, that during which he was afflicted with paraplegia 
at Saint-Urbain and Bonneval. Also he does not remem- 
ber having been a tailor and does not know how to sew. 

"These, then, are the six different states of conscious- 
ness, the ensemble of which embraces the whole life of the 
subject. 

"To act on the psychic state we have no other means 
except suggestion in somnambulism. We make, therefore, 
the following suggestion: 'V., you are to wake up at 
Bicetre, ward Cabanis.' V. obeys. On awaking from pro- 
voked somnambulism he believes it is the second of Janu- 
ary, 1884; his intelligence and affective qualities are ex- 
actly what we have seen described in the second state. At 
29 



434 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

the same time he is afflicted with hemiplegia and hemianses- 
thesia of the left side; the force exerted upon the dynamo- 
meter, the hysterogenic zone, all are transferred as in the 
second state. 

"In another suggestion we command him to awake at 
Bonneval when he was a tailor. The psychic state ob- 
tained is similar to that described in the fourth state, and 
simultaneously with it the paraplegia appeared with con- 
tracture and insensibility of the lower parts of the body." 



CHAPTER XXIV 

SECONDARY INFANT PERSONALITIES 

The eases we have analyzed thus far present formation 
of independently functioning constellations with concomi- 
tant moments that possess more or less common content. 
Though the change is great in the character of the moment, 
still the fundamental psychic material remains unchanged ; 
instincts, acquirements and many of the habits are present 
to both or to all the independently functioning moments. 
Not so is it in the cases we have to consider now. The 
content of the moment that ceases to function is sub- 
merged, and is not present in the newly functioning mo- 
ment. The patient in coming out from the "attack" is 
invariably characterized by the observers as "one newly 
born, one just ushered into life." The newly rising or de- 
veloping moment must acquire new content, although the 
dissociated moment with its submerged content greatly 
aids in the speedy development of the newly functioning 
moment consciousness. 

In these phenomena the dissociation reaches its maxi- 
mum. We must, however, point out that even such patho- 
logical manifestations present dissociation of different de- 
grees of extensity. Some shreds of the old experience and 
acquirements are more or less present in the newly rising 
moment. The only case which is altogether free from such 
remnants and presents the phenomena of dissociation in 
their purest aspect is the case of Hanna, and that is why it 
is so extremely valuable for the purposes of investigation. 

Cases of total dissociation, phenomena where the 
psychic content itself is lost with the disaggregation of the 

435 



436 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

old moment consciousness, though even some odd remnants 
of former riches may have been transmitted to the young 
heir, are extremely rare, but for that very reason they are 
so highly valuable. We may begin with the interesting 
case described by Dr. Mortimer Granville, in Brain, for 
1879. 

In 1858 (20 years before) Dr. Mortimer Granville was 
requested to see daily a governess and teacher of music, 
who had been attacked with what was called acute mania. 
"Found a spare, somewhat angular, eccentric-looking wom- 
an, age 26, in state of great excitement, hysterical and 
choreic. Within a few hours after paroxysm of consider- 
able violence, during which she talked and sang mildly, 
and was with difficulty restrained by those around her; 
she fell into a state verging on suspended animation, which 
lasted a week. Skin was cold, presented dark, mottled ap- 
pearance; pulse scarcely perceptible at wrist. Breathing 
slow and seldom deep ; seemed to be complete loss of con- 
sciousness and scarcely any trace of sensibility. Muscles 
cataleptic and extremities dropped slowly when raised. 
Was barely possible to feed patient by mouth; by holding 
forward the larynx and placing the fluid far back in 
pharynx with spoon, where it seemed to flow down the 
oesophagus as through a flaccid tube. This condition, which 
was treated with interrupted current from occiput to hypo- 
gastrium, etc., subsided very gradually. Then came the 
state I am chiefly interested to note. There had clearly 
been an exciting cause for the attack in religious excite- 
ment acting on a nervous system exhausted by protracted 
toil as teacher. 

"When consciousness began to return the latest sane 
ideas formed previous to the illness mingled curiously with 
the new impressions received, as in case of a person awak- 
ening slowly from a dream. When propped up with 
pillows near the bed, so that passers in the street could be 
seen, the patient described the moving objects as 'trees 



SECONDARY INFANT PERSONALITIES 437 

walking,' and when asked where she saw these things she 
immediately replied, 'In the other gospel.' In short, her 
mental state was one in which the real and the ideal were 
not separable. Her recollections on recovery and for some 
time after were indistinct, and, in regard to a large class 
of common topics, which must have formed the staple ma- 
terial of her thought up to the period of attack, memory 
was blank. For example, although this young woman 
supported herself as governess, she had no recollection of 
so simple a matter as the use of a writing implement. 
When a pen or pencil was placed in her hand, as it might 
be thrust between the fingers of a child, the reflex act of 
grasping it was not excited. This state lasted some weeks, 
and the 'recollection' of what had been 'forgotten' was 
slow and painful, needing or seeming to require a process 
of re-education. In the end recovery was mentally and 
physically satisfactory. ' ' 

Another case of still greater interest and far richer in 
details and in the course of its manifestations is described 
by William Sharpey, F.R.S., Professor of Anatomy and 
Physiology, the University of London, in Brain, for 1879. 

"Mrs. H., patient, about twenty-four years old (this 
was written in 1824), pale complexion and slender make. 
Married in July, 1823, and with exception of occasional 
headache, to which she, in common with some of the rest 
of her family, was subject, previously enjoyed good health 
of body and mind. 

' ' After her marriage she resided in England till the end 
of April, 1824, when, in consequence of ill-health, she was 
brought here by her husband. From husband's account it 
appeared that for about three months after their marriage 
she enjoyed perfect health and spirits, but that after that 
she complained a good deal of pain in stomach and bowels ; 
appetite bad, bad spirits, imagining herself unequal to 
concerns of house, though only herself and husband, and 
it was also observed she slept more than usual. 



438 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

"On her arrival here, in April, physically appeared 
well; all her external senses were sound, but memory was 
impaired, and she was very inattentive to surrounding ob- 
jects. The sleepiness had been gradually increasing, and 
was now at such a height that unless when conversing with 
another person, or engaged in manual occupation, she fell 
asleep at all times and in whatever position. When in 
this state her eyes were nearly closed; she breathed softly 
and, in short, very much resembled a person in natural 
sleep, except that when she happened to fall asleep in a 
position in which the body naturally requires to be sup- 
ported; as, for instance, on a chair, she did not lean for- 
ward or backward, as is commonly the case, but sat with 
her body quite erect and her head gently inclined to one 
side. While in this state she was subject to frequent 
startings, during which she raised herself up, talked as if 
frightened, drew herself back, as if to avoid something 
disagreeable, and then lay quietly down again as if without 
having awoke. What she said on these occasions, though 
quite incoherent, was yet always nearly of the same nature 
and for most part consisted even of same expressions, which 
were those of great aversion or horror; of this she had no 
recollection when awake, nor of anything connected with 
it; and she herself remarked as something extraordinary 
that now she did not dream, although she used formerly 
to be subject to dreaming. From this sleep she never 
awoke of her own accord, except to obey the calls of nat- 
ure; and there was no other way of rousing her up upon 
other occasions but by placing her on her feet and en- 
deavoring to make her walk. 

"When thus forcibly awakened, she was fretful and 
cried for some time after. She took food in sufficient 
amount and often with evident relish, but it took entreaty 
to make her take the first mouthfuls. 

"The pulse varied a little, but on the whole natural; 
during sleep was 56 to 70, and somewhat more when awake. 



SECONDARY INFANT PERSONALITIES 439 

Urine charge normal ; catamenia hitherto regular, but small 
amount. She complained of no pain or other uneasiness 
except a peculiar feeling on top of head which she called 
' funny. ' 

"For five weeks after arrival the torpid state and in- 
difference to surrounding objects gradually became worse, 
and difficulty of awakening her increased daily, till about 
the 8th or 10th of June it was found impossible to rouse 
her up at all by any means, and thenceforth, except 
a few short intervals, she remained in a state of constant 
sleep till beginning of August. Her condition was now 
singular. She still made an attempt to get out of bed 
to stool ; when food was presented to her lips with a spoon 
she readily took it into her mouth and swallowed it, and 
thus she was fed ; when she had taken what appeared to be 
enough she closed her teeth as a sign she was satisfied; 
she appeared able to distinguish different tastes. She gave 
evident preference to some sorts of food, and ostensibly 
refused others. She sometimes even judged of nature of 
food or medicine offered by sense of smell. 

"By this time the startings in her sleep had left her; 
although expressions uttered in that state were nearly 
same as formerly, yet her manner of speaking was now 
of satisfaction and not fright. She often even sang to a 
simple but cheerful air nearly the same words which she 
used formerly to cry out in terror. 

"The torpor continued in same degree till end of July, 
with occasional intervals of awakening which happened at 
uncertain periods, but usually at distance of a few days 
from each other and occasioned by pain experienced in 
some part of her body. First of these took place after she 
had been ten days in continued torpor; caused by griping 
medicine, she awakened in great pain, crying out, 'Pain, 
pain, die, die,' placing her hands on abdomen. She was 
relieved by fomentations, but nevertheless kept awake for 
some hours, during which she answered no questions and 



440 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

recognized nobody except one old acquaintance whom she 
had not seen for more than twelve months. She looked 
steadfastly into this person's face for a few moments, ap- 
parently occupied in trying to remember his name, which 
she at length found out and repeated again and again, 
and at the same time taking him by the hand as if overjoyed 
to see him; but when questioned regarding him she an- 
swered only by calling out his name, which she continued 
to repeat for some time after she had fallen asleep in ad- 
dition to what she usually said. In the course of the next 
eight days she was twice roused from her sleep by similar 
cause, but not so completely ; same individual was the only 
person she knew; among others she did not recognize even 
her own husband. 

''The next interval of waking took place three or four 
days after ; it appeared occasioned by pain in the head ; she 
cried for some time, then awoke complaining of pain with 
her hand on her forehead; she placed hand of person near 
by also on her forehead. The same thing happened on 
next three or four succeeding evenings, nearly at the same 
time. Other circumstances this time showed she was suf- 
fering from uneasiness in the head. She was very impatient 
in erect posture, and when placed on ground drew up her 
legs as if to force lying down again. This was not the case 
when she needed to be taken up for evacuation. She gener- 
ally also preferred to lie on her face and with head low, both 
hands clasped firmly over it, exactly on part to which she 
had referred as peculiar feeling. After this torpor con- 
tinued for some time without being interrupted. 

' ' Toward end of July torpid state which had suffered no 
intermissions had become on the whole not quite so deep, 
at least, patient gave signs of more consciousness of any- 
thing done to her. She smiled and seemed pleased on re- 
ceiving particular sorts of food, and when eye opened and 
face touched, whole countenance was suffused with flush. 
Some time after it was possible to awake her by opening 



SECONDARY INFANT PERSONALITIES 441 

her eyes and holding anything before them likely to catch 
her attention, such as a glass of water. 

"When thus awakened she laughed a good deal, and 
seemed delighted, and always bestowed her whole atten- 
tion on vessel containing her food and the person holding 
it ; she did not speak, however, or pay any attention 
to questions put to her. She began to take great liking 
to the attendant, and would hardly allow her out of sight. 
Now, also, she would creep cautiously onto the floor from 
her bed and creep to fireside and would lie down on the 
hearth-rug as if warming herself. At length, after gradu- 
ally improving, she was by third week in August almost 
free from torpor and slept little more than healthy per- 
sons. Temperature was normal. Pupil normal. Had lost 
flesh. 

"On her recovery from torpor she appeared to have 
forgotten all her previous knowledge; everything seemed 
new to her, and she did not recognize a single person, not 
even her nearest relatives. In behavior she was restless and 
inattentive, but very lively and cheerful. She was de- 
lighted with everything she saw or heard and, altogether, 
resembled a child more than a grown person. 

"In short, she became rather more sedate and her at- 
tention could be longer fixed on one object. Her memory, 
too, so entirely lost as far as regards previous knowledge, 
was soon found to be most acute and retentive with respect 
to everything she saw or heard subsequent to her disorder, 
and she has by this time recovered many of her former 
acquirements, some with greater, some with less facility. 
"With regard to these it is remarkable that though the 
process followed in regaining many of them consisted in 
recalling them to mind with assistance of neighbors rather 
than in studying them anew, yet even now she does not ap- 
pear to be in the smallest degree conscious of having pos- 
sessed them before. 

"At first it was scarcely possible to engage her in con- 



442 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

versation; in place of answering questions, she repeated 
them aloud in same words put, and even long after she 
came to answer questions she constantly repeated them over 
once before replying. At first she had very few words, but 
soon acquired many and often strangely misapplied them. 
She did this, however, mostly in particular ways; often, 
for instance, made one word answer for all others which 
were in any way allied to it ; thus, in place of tea, she asked 
for juice, and this word she long used for liquids. For a 
long time, in expressing qualities of objects, she invariably 
used very opposite words; thus, 'white' in place of 'black,' 
'hot' for 'cold,' etc. 

"She now uses words with propriety. 

' ' Has as yet recognized no person ; that is, has no recol- 
lection of seeing them previous to her illness; knows them 
only as new acquaintances, but with no idea of what rela- 
tion they bear to her. 

' ' Has acquired reading, but had to begin with alphabet. 
Afterward learned to form syllables and small words. 

" Reacquisition of her reading facilitated by singing 
words of familiar songs. In learning to write began with 
elements. 

"In singing she at first generally required to be helped 
for first two or three words, and made out the rest appar- 
ently from memory. 

"Friends think she now plays as well, if not better, 
than before illness. 

"When asked how she learned to play notes from book, 
replied she couldn't tell, and wondered why questioner 
could not do the same. 

"Once or twice had dreams which she often related to 
friends, and seemed quite aware of difference between 
dreams and reality. 

"Indeed, from casual remarks, it appears she has many 
complex ideas which she had no opportunity of acquiring 
since recovery. 



SECONDARY INFANT PERSONALITIES 443 

"Postscript, 1879: 

' ' After a time patient returned home and passed rest of 
life happily and gave birth to a daughter, who survives 
her." 

The patient was of psychopathic disposition. She 
proved unequal to the cares of housewife duties, cares that 
would in no way affect any average healthy individual. 
Her mental system was in unstable equilibrium, and it 
broke down under the strain of ordinary stimuli. She had 
a prolonged coma-like attack from which she woke up with 
all her previous knowledge entirely gone. She had to learn 
to speak, read and write. At first she hardly ever realized 
the meaning of speech, and like a child simply repeated by 
instinct the questions put to her. A similar state was also 
observed in the Hanna case. Whether her natural instincts 
were lost, such, for instance, as eating, drinking, or the way 
to take and handle utensils in connection with food, or 
whether she could dress herself, walk, etc., we do not know 
from the report of the case. It seems, however, as far as 
one can judge from the account, that much of it was lost, 
and whatever was retained was in a rather imperfect form. 
The instincts of the submerged moment were largely lost. 

Memory in the newly formed or secondary moment 
proved extraordinarily retentive, a fact we also found in 
the Hanna case. Whatever was learned or mentioned once 
was fully retained. 

It appears from Professor Sharpey's account that 
hypnoidal states were present, many experiences suddenly 
appeared in the consciousness of the newly formed moment, 
experiences that belonged to the patient's past life, to the 
content of the old disaggregated moment, but which the 
patient did not recognize, did not welcome as her own. 

We must draw the attention of the reader to the pro- 
longed attack or the intermediary state, the attack that 
separated the two moments. In this case the state is ex- 
tremely interesting on account of its being of so long dura- 



444 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

tion. While in this intermediary, seemingly unconscious 
condition the patient presented many hypnoidic states. 
Different moments were making attempts to rise from 
the depth of the subconscious and establish themselves 
as the principal ones in the patient's mental life. They 
were not, however, strong enough. They were not organ- 
ized enough to maintain themselves and take the lead. The 
outcome was that none of them on account of their insta- 
bility were fit to take the organizing part in the patient's 
mental life or become the centralizing synthetic moment of 
self -consciousness. Hence the patient on awaking came out 
with extremely limited content, with mere unorganized, 
broken bits of former life experience. Had any of the 
hypnoidic states been strong enough to get organized and 
gather material around itself the patient would have come 
out with a partly rearranged, differently crystallized, but 
still with much of the old content, and would have pre- 
sented the phenomena of many of those cases which we 
have analyzed on previous pages. 

It would have been interesting to know whether the 
two totally dissociated moments went on alternating. Pro- 
fessor Sharpey does not mention it. It seems they did not. 
It is unlikely that Professor Sharpey would not have no- 
ticed such an important trait of the case under his obser- 
vation and treatment. The alternation might have set in 
after Professor Sharpey lost sight of the case, since it may 
take time before this phenomenon appears. It might as 
well be that such an alternation never occurred. Whether 
the patient has ever regained her former memories so as to 
recognize her past life and in what way, if it occurred at 
all, is not known. The case, therefore, is incomplete, and 
we may put it down as one of monocyclical bimorphosis 
with total loss of content. 

The very frequently quoted case of Mary Reynolds, re- 
published by Dr. S. Weir Mitchell in a more complete 
form, was until now the only case on record that presented 



SECONDARY INFANT PERSONALITIES 445 

a complete loss of the content of memory in so far as 
the acquirements and habits were concerned, along with 
marked phenomena of periodical alternation of the two 
states. 

The patient, Mary Reynolds, was of a strongly marked 
psychopathic disposition. She had many functional dis- 
turbances, suffered from convulsions, loss of consciousness, 
functional loss of sight and hearing. After having been 
greatly weakened by such a severe attack she fell into a 
profound sleep from which she could not be aroused, and 
on awaking was found to be deprived of all her former 
knowledge, of all recognition of former environment, of 
all her friends, no matter how near and dear. The natural 
instincts seem to have remained. She knew how to eat and 
how to drink; she neither had to learn to adapt herself to 
space, nor had she to learn to walk. Whether she knew 
how to dress herself or to observe personal cleanliness the 
report does not state. All her acquirements, such as speech, 
or the understanding of it, knowledge of events or persons, 
all were completely gone. Some shreds of phases of her 
former life remained and persisted in her second state. 
When she woke up from her profound slumber she, like an 
infant, was wailing some disconnected words and sentences, 
the meaning of which she did not know. In character and 
disposition she was completely changed. From being shy, 
morose and melancholic, in the primary state, she became 
in the secondary state gay, lively and playful. From 
being sedate ana matter-of-fact, she became imaginative 
and with a knack for rhyming. 

It is of importance to note the fact that the secondary 
state came through an attack of profound slumber, and 
that in passing from the primary to the secondary there 
was always present such an attack of various duration. 
In short, the hypnoleptic state is always present as the 
transition state. Furthermore, while the transition between 
the primary and secondary state took place as a rule in the 



446 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

night, or, as the patient said, in the condition of ordinary- 
sleep, usually at night-time, the contrary was in the oppo- 
site direction, the transition between the primary and sec- 
ondary was always through an attack of "the profound 
sleep," of which the patient had some presentiment be- 
fore — some sort of aura. 

In the graduated series of cases presented to the reader 
we are confronted with greater and greater loss of con- 
tent as we advance in the degree of dissociation. As we 
advance from case to case we meet with more and more dis- 
sociation of systems and their concomitant moments, until 
we reach cases where the dissociation is so complete that 
the old content is absent, where all the acquirements and 
habits have disappeared. Finally we reach the climax 
where not only all the acquirements, but where even the 
natural instincts have been lost. This we find in the case 
of Hanna. All these cases present one graduated series, 
and, although they may be classified into more or less defi- 
nite types, still they shade imperceptibly into one another. 
The dissociation effected may be of any degree of exten- 
siveness and intensity. One psychophysiological process, 
however, underlies all of them, and that is the process of 
system disaggregation and new system formation due to a 
redistribution in the rise and fall of the moment thresholds. 



CHAPTER XXV 

MULTIPLE PERSONALITY AND THE HTPNOLEPTIC STATE 

Our analysis of the cases of double or multiple con- 
sciousness, together with the experimental study of the 
Hanna case, reveals to us the law that governs the different 
'forms of psychophysiological segmentation. 

A close examination of the cases reveals the fact that 
in some of them, though not in all, we find a psychopathic 
or neuropathic disposition. The patient's mental life is in 
a state of unstable equilibrium. The higher constellations 
and clusters of neurons with their concomitant mental sys- 
tems are not firmly organized in the principal constellation 
correlative with the synthetic moment of self-consciousness. 
Thus the very cerebral organization has an inherent ten- 
dency to segmentation, or even disintegration, under condi- 
tions that would in no way affect more stable organizations. 
A strong stimulus, or even one of medium intensity, may set 
up a process of disorganization. A fall, a blow, a con- 
cussion, a strong emotion, any of them may produce ' ' com- 
motion cerebri," disintegration of the unstable neuron 
systems. Such cases we have already brought to the 
notice of the reader in our former chapters, and there 
is, therefore, no need to have them repeated here. 

The hurtful stimulus, however, may not be of a vio- 
lent character, acting suddenly, but of a mild nature, 
acting for a long time on the neural constellations and 
finally inducing the phenomena of dissociation and disin- 
tegration. In cases of confirmed alcoholism or in epilepsy 
we frequently find such disorders. The accumulation of 
toxic matter may bring about a rise of thresholds with a 
consequent disintegration of the constellation of neuron 

447 



448 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

systems, and the elimination of this poisonous material 
may effect a restitution. 

It must, however, be pointed out that though cases of 
double consciousness may occur in epilepsy, epilepsy is 
not the only cause of all such cases. Double or mul- 
tiple consciousness may be induced by many different 
causes, and epilepsy is but one of them. Epilepsy and the 
phenomena of multiple consciousness must by no means be 
identified. When we find a case of amnesia and double 
consciousness without any typical epileptic attacks, we are 
not justified to ascribe it to epilepsy, simply because 
such phenomena are also manifested in this disease. The 
moon is one of the causes of light, but it does not follow 
that wherever there is light the moon must necessarily be 
present. Moreover, the secondary states, or the moments 
consciousness found in the epileptic "Dammerzustande," 
are of a very low type, because the disintegration is deeper 
and more extensive. Epilepsy and multiple consciousness 
should not be confounded ; one can exist without the other. 
There is epilepsy with no organized double or multiple con- 
sciousness, and there is organized double consciousness with 
no epilepsy. In our sleep, which no one will deny as being 
a perfectly healthy and normal state, nearly every one of 
us, some time or other, presents phenomena of mental seg- 
mentation. Some isolated area of the brain or rather a 
constellation of clusters of neurons continues or begins to 
function and we get some type of hypnoidic states in the 
form of very vivid dreams. We find this especially to 
occur in children, who often cry, play and act out their 
dreams, living over in these states the more striking events 
of their life. A child, for instance, is frightened by a dog 
that ran over it. In its dream the child lives over again 
the occurrence of the day, and it cries out with fear. Chil- 
dren are known to sing in their dreams, remarking then, 
' ' That is enough ; I cannot sing any more. ' ' Every father 
and mother, who have paid attention to their children, will 



THE HYPNOLEPTIC STATE 449 

tell you of such vivid dreams. If now the phenomena of 
multiple consciousness were nothing but a form of epilepsy, 
a "masked epilepsy," or, as some term it, a "psychic 
epilepsy, ' ' then we are all of us confirmed epileptics. One 
thing, however, is perfectly clear from the study and anal- 
ysis of the cases of multiple consciousness, and that is the 
preliminary condition of such states. The prerequisite of 
multiple consciousness is either a highly complex organi- 
zation or, what is more frequent, an unstable neural 
equilibrium. 

To effect an overthrow of this neural equilibrium some 
agents are required. This, as we have just pointed out, 
may be of any kind, only they must either be of an in- 
tensity stronger than the usual stimuli, or of a low in- 
tensity, but durable in their hurtful activity. In short, 
the intensity of a normal stimulus or the duration of hurt- 
ful irritation may produce the same effect. Once such an 
effect is induced and the principal constellation is broken 
up, or disintegrated, an attack of unconsciousness sets in, 
an attack which may be of any duration, sometimes occu- 
pying a few minutes only, and sometimes covering a period 
of many hours, and even days. The disintegration is a 
form of cerebral shock akin to one induced by direct ex- 
cision of the frontal lobes or of other areas of the brain 
in the psychophysiological experiments on localization. 

The principal organization of the leading constellations 
of systems is disintegrated, and on account of the shock no 
other moment is yet organized to take the lead and become 
the focus of the disturbed stream of mental life. Systems 
with accompanying moments consciousness may arise and 
attempt to form a focus, but not being well organized, and 
not being able to concentrate enough psychic content so as 
to maintain their own existence, they fall back into the 
same obscurity from which they come, and other moments 
take their place, until at last a moment comes to the sur- 
face, a moment fit to survive and able to maintain itself 
30 



450 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

above the threshold of self-consciousness. The whole proc- 
ess is a struggle for existence among the many systems, 
among the many moments constituting man's mental life. 
Only the fittest survive. 

Meanwhile, during the whole course of this process the 
patient remains in a "deep sleep," in a state of uncon- 
sciousness. A deep sleep, or a state which we may prac- 
tically term unconsciousness, since the higher moments or 
systems are disaggregated and "inhibited," and only the 
lower ones remain and continue their function, is a neces- 
sary preparatory stage of the phenomena of double or 
multiple consciousness. All the cases analyzed and studied 
by us present this stage. Where it is absent, where the 
patient, without falling into an unconscious condition, 
directly before our eyes begins to manifest a different per- 
sonality with loss of memory, we should have our eyes 
wide open and be strongly suspicious of the genuineness of 
the case. A state of unconsciousness or of low moment 
consciousness precedes the first manifestations of double or 
multiple personality. 

It does not require a close scrutiny to discover that in 
all cases of mental alternation one state does not directly 
merge into the other. Between the two there is a state of 
unconsciousness or of deep sleep, however short it may be. 
One synthetic moment does not directly touch the other 
in time. The point of the end of one moment does not form 
the starting-point of another. The two alternately func- 
tioning systems are separated by an interval of uncon- 
sciousness, however short. At first the interval is long, 
extending over a period of many minutes, or even hours, 
but gradually, with the repetition of the alternation, this 
interval becomes shorter and shorter, and is finally reduced 
to but a few seconds. 

In the first cycles of multiple consciousness none of 
the moments are well organized, each of the leading func- 
tioning moments can maintain itself above the threshold 



THE HYPNOLEPTIC STATE 451 

of personality only for a short time. With the disinte- 
gration of the latter another constellation with its correla- 
tive moment begins to rise, reaches the threshold of self- 
consciousness, steps it over and begins to function; the 
moment not being well organized, the process takes a con- 
siderable time. As the cycles of alternation are more and 
more repeated, the alternating moments become well or- 
ganized and the time of the submergence of one and the 
emergence of the other becomes considerably reduced, but 
still the process must occupy some fraction of time, how- 
ever short; hence the intermediary stage of "deep sleep," 
the state of unconsciousness. In passing from one state to 
the other the deep sleep must invariably be present. This 
is the hypnoleptic state. 

The hypnoleptic state is a true attack. It sets in with 
a state of irresistible drowsiness, the patient still having 
consciousness of his environment, and stimuli, which must 
become more and more intense as the state of drowsiness 
deepens, reach the subsiding synthetic moment conscious- 
ness and bring it into momentary activity again. The 
patient can be aroused, but only for a brief space of time, 
for a second or a fraction of it, and soon falls back into 
the drowsy condition. As the drowsiness deepens the pa- 
tient's reaction to external stimuli becomes less and less, 
and finally a point is reached beyond which no stimuli, 
however intense, can possibly arouse the patient — he is in 
an unconscious state. The hypnoleptic state can therefore 
be divided into two stages. One may be characterized as 
the first stage or the stage of drowsiness. The state that 
follows may be characterized as the second or the stage of 
unconsciousness. 

The stage of drowsiness or the first stage of the hyp- 
noleptic state is of the utmost importance for theoretical, 
experimental, as well as for practical therapeutic purposes. 
It is in this stage that the true crisis of alternation be- 
gins. One functioning moment is slowly subsiding, while 



452 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

another moment is being formed and is slowly rising to 
its dominant position in consciousness. 

Now, basing myself on this theoretical knowledge of the 
hypnoleptic state, I was enabled to bring about a synthesis 
in the Hanna case of the two dissociated systems or mo- 
ments. The hypnoidic and the hypnoidal states clearly 
revealed the formation of independent centres, of inde- 
pendent constellations in the subconscious regions of the 
patient's mind. There were many centres, many systems of 
neurons of the disaggregated constellation with its con- 
comitant synthetic moment of self-consciousness. They 
were in a state of formation. The incessant bringing up 
of the hypnoidal states by means of experimentation, the 
methods of psychic and physiological stimulation employed 
by me, of which an account was given in a previous chap- 
ter, stimulated those independent constellations to a more 
active function, which was bound to result in their syn- 
thesis. 

The treatment was the first experiment of the kind in 
the effectiveness of synthesis, since, as we have seen, in no 
case of multiple personality was a synthesis brought about. 
So much so, that Ribot, in his book, ' ' Diseases of Memory, ' ' 
tells us that "observation does not show that its chasm is 
ever bridged over by direct recollection." The cases were 
of long standing, the alternations of personalities continu- 
ing for years, and sometimes the whole lifetime ; the only 
one who attempted to effect a synthesis was Professor 
James, but he unfortunately failed, as he employed a wrong 
method, not basing his attempt on the insight into the 
mechanism of this form of mental malady. The fact that 
such a synthesis, or, as Ribot terms it, a bridge, was until 
now not effected in any of the cases, made the great French 
psychologist stop short in his conclusions and say that ' ' two 
suppositions are possible, either the registration of anterior 
states is effaced, or the conservation of anterior states per- 
sisting their power of revivication by association with the 



THE HYPNOLEPTIC STATE 453 

present is destroyed. It is impossible to decide arbitrarily 
between these two hypotheses. ' ' In the case of Hanna the 
chasm was bridged over by direct recollection, thus demon- 
strating the correctness of the second hypothesis. 

The methods for bringing about a synthesis were worked 
on my theory of the moment consciousness. Each step was 
controlled by this theory, and each phenomena as it came 
along was foreseen beforehand. I think, therefore, that 
this was an experimentum crucis of the truth of my 
position. Once the disaggregated moments became syn- 
thetized they formed one synthetic moment embracing 
the whole content of experience up to the time of the 
accident. Their stimulation and the memory of the func- 
tioning constellation of mental systems brought the old, 
now reintegrated moment, to the surface of the waking 
consciousness. This always took place at night, in sleep, 
when the constellation of the secondary state was in 
abeyance and the primary could come forth and assume 
supremacy. 

The primary state, however, could not long maintain 
itself, the common synthetic bond of associative activity 
was weak, and the whole moment gradually began to sub- 
side into the subconscious in the disaggregated form, in 
which it had been before. It was a matter of fatigue and 
rest. The patient began to feel drowsy and gradually 
passed into the second stage of the hypnoleptic state where 
no external stimuli could bring him to self-conscious life 
until the moment consciousness of the secondary state 
stepped over the threshold of self-consciousness. The pa- 
tient woke up in the secondary state. 

Our efforts were then directed toward a more frequent 
alternation of the two formed centres, of the two foci, of 
the two synthetic moments consciousness. This, as we 
know, according to the law of alternating moments, tends 
to shorten the hypnoleptic state. Fortunately, the hypno- 
leptic state in our case was a very short one, lasting only 



454 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

a few minutes at the start, and two or three alternations 
sufficed to reduce it to seconds. 

Another method to reduce the total time of the hypno- 
leptic state was stimulation during the hypnoleptic state 
itself. Powerful stimuli, acting simultaneously on all the 
senses, were applied to the patient. This stimulation was 
of importance to reduce the time of the last stages of 
the hypnoleptic state. For, in the last stages of the hyp- 
noleptic state, the constellation of systems with its mo- 
ment consciousness representing the secondary state was 
almost fully formed and near the lower threshold of self- 
consciousness ; the stimulation helped the moment to rise 
earlier than it would have done otherwise. The duration 
of the hypnoleptic state was thus greatly shortened. The 
interval between the two, now more or less firmly organized 
moments, became reduced, and the moments were then 
nearer to each other in time. 

When the hypnoleptic state set in, the constellation with 
the second moment became quickly organized and rapidly 
rose to the threshold of consciousness. Once this was 
effected our efforts were directed toward retarding as long 
as possible the subsiding constellation with its concomitant 
primary state, so that the moments, the subsiding one and 
the rising one, should meet and catch a glimpse of each 
other ; in short, the whole course of our treatment was bent 
on one purpose, namely, to make the two moments simul- 
taneous, even though for the briefest space of time. This 
could not act otherwise but result in a synthesis of both. 
The two alternating moments separated by the hypnoleptic 
state, by having them appear simultaneously, came in close 
touch, perceived each other for the first time. 

At first the two met like enemies, but soon they had to 
acknowledge their intimate relationship and the synthesis 
was effected, though in a very laborious fashion. Thus the 
synthesis of the two alternating dissociative moments or 
mental systems was brought about by the shortening of the 



THE HYPNOLEPTIC STATE 455 

total period of the hypnoleptic state, then by the shorten- 
ing of the secondary stage, and lastly by the lengthening of 
the primary stage of the hypnoleptic state. In other words, 
to effect a synthesis we have to shorten the secondary stage 
and lengthen the primary stage of the hypnoleptic state. 

The hypnoleptic state is not only of the highest im- 
portance for theoretical and therapeutical purposes, but 
it is also of the utmost consequence from a purely 
diagnostic purpose. Thus I know of a case of double con- 
sciousness where the patient feigned this pathological con- 
dition and duped his physician for some time. The pa- 
tient wanted to be kept in the hospital so as to escape the 
burden of the duties of life. Now, had the physicians 
known of the intermediary sleeping state, they would not 
have been so badly duped. Besides, the fact that there 
were many other flagrant contradictions in the case, the 
fraud could even at first sight have been detected, because 
the patient, after having been in the hospital for a few 
days, passed, in the presence of the physicians, into the 
primary state, directly while in the full possession of his 
consciousness. No sleeping state intervened between the 
secondary and primary state. Such a case is a fraud. It 
must be borne in mind that the law of monocyclical or 
polycyclical bimorphosis is : no mental alternation without 
some form of an intermediary sleeping state in general and 
of a hypnoleptic state in particular, especially in the transi- 
tion from the primary to the secondary moment. 

The intermediary states, the sleeping and especially the 
hypnoleptic state, now require our attention. What are 
they? How do they originate 1 ? And why is it that we 
find that while the transition from the secondary to the 
primary is through the condition of ordinary sleep, taking 
place usually at night, the contrary is the case in the transi- 
tion from the primary to the secondary? In other words, 
why should the transition between the primary and sec- 
ondary state take place through an "attack," through a 



456 MULTIPLE PERSONALITY 

hypnoleptic state? The answer is because the sleeping 
state represents the absence of any dominant functioning 
moment, and that is what takes place in the interval of the 
alternation of the moments. But what is that hypnoleptic 
state? The hypnoleptic state is the reproduction of the 
original attack which brought about the state of double or 
multiple consciousness. 

This is clearly revealed in the case of Hanna. What 
happened there was that the patient met with an accident, 
lost his consciousness and the synthetic moment became dis- 
aggregated and could not get reinstated; a new moment 
with new content entered into being, a secondary state be- 
came gradually formed and trained. The original order 
then was: (1) the primary state, representing the patient's 
whole previous life, (2) the state of unconsciousness, (3) 
the formed secondary state. The succession of the states 
formed a cycle that went on repeating itself in the same 
order; hence we can see why the hypnoleptic state is of 
the nature of an attack and why the order is always of the 
following course, — primary state, hypnoleptic state, second- 
ary state, and so on, never the reverse. The phenomena of 
double or multiple personality have a definite course of 
their own. Newly formed personalities pass through well- 
defined cycles of life, and like new worlds formed by some 
external or internal catastrophe, they keep on revolving 
within the same orbits. 



THE END 



INDEX 



Abnormal consciousness, 51 ; men- 
tal activity, 352; psychology, 
58; threshold, 279. 

Abstract ideas, 98. 

Actinia, 12. 

Activity, 274; biological, 274; 
cause of, 78, 79; mental, 8, 
78, 232, 242, 271; organic, 22, 
27. 

Adaptation, 24, 239. 

Adjustment, 24, 239, 241. 

Adult infants, 89. 

Aggregates, moment, 237, 271, 
275, 277, 280, 282, 283, 285, 
292; neuron, 22, 53, 280; psy- 
chic, 277. 

Alienation, mental, 267. 

Alternation, mental, 384, 455; of 
personality, 83. 

Amnesia, 49, 79, 276, 346, 352, 
355, 357, 359, 362; graphic 
representation of, 88, 89. 

Amorphous state, 363. 

Anesthesia, 181, 259, 280, 342, 
355, 358, 359. 

Analysis of multiple personality, 
364. 

Animal life, 11, 235. 

Annelida, 14. 

Apathy, 22. 

Apparatus, muscular, 100. 

Aphasia, 79, 294, 356. 

Ascidian, 12. 

Association, free, 33 ; of neurons, 
10, 36, 51, 52, 76, 269, 286, 
344. 

Asthropoda, 16, 239. 

Attention, 92. 

Attributes of personality, 57; of 
psychic elements, 34. 

Aura, 255, 307, 330, 331. 

Auto-imitation, 101. 

Automatic, 244 ; writing, 258. 

Automatism, 243, 265, 314. 



457 



Beauty, sense of, 105. 

Belief, 281. 

Bethe, 20, 22. 

Bilatero-ventral type, 12. 

Bimorphosis, 362, 344, 455; 
monocyclical, 344, 361 ; poly- 
cyclical, 361. 

Biology, 4. 

Blood, relationship, 23. 

Bonds, functional, 24. 

Borderland states, 278. 

Bradylogia, 191. 

Brady phasia, 191. 

Breaks in mental states, 199. 

Breur, 330. 

Brightness of secondary states, 
198. 

Cajal, 52. 

Cannabis, 176. 

Cell, 3, 5, 7, 8, 232. 

Centre of moment, 232. 

Cerebral centres, 176. 

Chain of ganglia, 16; of memo- 
ries, 374. 

Character of dreams, 220. 

Characteristics of representative 
elements, 36. 

Cosenasthesia, 341, 354. 

Coexistence of personalities, 64; 
of systems, 327, 362. 

Cognition, 35, 36. 

Cohesion of sensory compounds, 
36, 37. 

Combinations, elasticity of, 25, 
26; of individualities, 53; of 
psychic elements, 37; system- 
ic, 31. 

Communications, 68, 70. 

Compounds, organic, 33; psy- 
chic, 28 ; sensory, 27. 

Concentration of mind, 253. 

Concrescence of neurons, 22. 

Conglomeration of ganglia, 22. 



458 



INDEX 



Consciousness, 30, 49, 50, 76, 84, 
85, 104, 141, 150, 160, 192, 
196, 201, 203, 213, 231, 235, 
241, 248, 255, 264, 267, 286, 
292, 303, 307, 310, 341, 357, 
360, 364, 373, 386, 418, 421, 
448, 453. 

Content, psychic, 232. 

Contiguity, association of, 235. 

Continuity, mental, 44; of per- 
sonality, 57. 

Contraction of individuality, 77. 

Contrast, association of, 235. 

Co-ordination, 10, 238. 

Co-operation, 21, 23. 

Crystal-gazing, 48, 328. 

Cycle of double personality, 456. 

Cytoreticulum, 235. 



Dammerzustande, 341, 344, 448. 

Delusion, 281, 286, 403. 

Dementia, 230. 

Descartes, 229. 

Degeneration, process of, 38, 284. 

Desultory moment, 239. 

Development of child, 243. 

Differentiation, 11, 21, 239. 

Disaggregation, 53, 136, 420; of 
personality, 65. 

Discarnate spirits, 54. 

Diseases, nervous, 301. 

Disintegration, 283, 364. 

Disseminated type, 10, 12. 

Dissociated systems, 56, 57, 282, 
355, 356, 360. 

Dissociation, 27, 44, 46, 76, 280, 
355, 358. 

Dissolution, 279. 

Distance, 92. 

Division of labor, physiologi- 
cal, 9. 

Dominant systems, 78. 

Dreams, 48, 50, 137, 220, 278, 
283, 319, 322, 325, 330, 398, 
448. 

Dynamic process, 235. 

Dyspnoea, 334. 



Economy, law of, 25. 
Education, 89, 90. 
Efforts of attention, 282. 
Ego, 93, 103, 193. 



Elements, freedom of individual, 
26 ; psychic, 27, 32, 33, 37, 52, 
236, 342, 355. 

Embryonic stages, 16. 

Emotion, 348, 349, 352. 

Emotionalism, theory of, 349, 
354. 

Energy, psychophysiological, 245, 
251, 329. 

Environment, change of, 245. 

Epilepsy, 270, 343, 448, 449 ; psy- 
chic, 47, 343, 449. 

Equilibrium, act of, 244; neu- 
rol, 449. 

Ethical law, 26. 

Eucorellium rubrum, 4. 

Euphoria, 176. 

Evolution, 22, 25, 26, 83, 237. 



Fall, of thresholds, 283, 287, 292. 

Familiarity, sense of, 25, 46, 145. 

Fatigue, 226, 274, 278. 

Field of vision, 273. 

Fits, fainting, 379. 

Flournoy, 70. 

Fluctuation of the attention, 
282; of the moment, 241; of 
thresholds, 282. 

Focus of psychic states, 236. 

Forgetfulness, 276. 

Forms of life, 22; of psychic 
states, 236. 

Freedom of elements, 33; of in- 
dividuality, 33. 

Frequency of association, 344. 

Freud, 330. 

Functional dissociation, 355 ; life, 
24, 25; psychosis, 280, 353, 
354, 356, 357, 359; relation- 
ship, 23, 25. 

Functioning activity, 22. 

Functions, physiological, 13. 

Fusion of liver, 415 ; of personal- 
ities, 363; process of, 31, 32, 
33. 



Ganglia, nerve, 10, 13, 16, 22. 
Gastrocnemius muscle, 274. 
General paralysis, 230. 
Golgi, 52. 

Groups, mental, 28, 237; neuron, 
20, 53. 



INDEX 



459 



Growth of mental activity, 25 ; of 
moments, 242 ; of new personal- 
ity, 95. 

Guide, controlling, 70. 



Habits, 43, 241. 
Hallucinations, 71, 259, 319, 326, 

328, 331. 
Handwriting, automatic, 327 ; of 

primary state, 43, 179, 180 ; of 

secondary state, 178. 
Hemiplegia, 247, 311, 430. 
Hierarchy of moments, 249. 
History of child development, 

239. 
Homicidal impulses, 267. 
Honey-bee, nervous system, 19. 
House-fly, nervous system, 19. 
Human personality, 86. 
Hunger, sensation of, 93. 
Hydra fusca, 4. 
Hyperesthesia, 280, 342. 
Hypermnesia, 280. 
Hypnoid states, 327, 329. 
Hypnoidal states, 143, 146. 
Hypnoidic states, 267, 307. 
Hypnoidization, 140, 304. 
Hypnoleptic state, 181, 185, 188, 

355, 447, 456. 
Hypnonergic state, 48. 
Hypnosis, 48, 245, 253, 268, 302, 

309, 317, 375, 379, 382, 402, 

405. 
Hypoaesthesia, 248, 293. 
Hysteria, 347, 355. 
Hyslop, 65. 



Ideas, 34, 98. 
Ideational process, 24. 
Idiocy, 230. 
Illusion, 241. 
Images, 35, 43. 
Imagination, 32. 
Imitation, 54, 70, 95, 212. 
Immediate cognition, 35. 
Impressions, 104, 107, 184. 
Impulsions, 266, 267. 
Inattentive consciousness, 261. 
Incarnation, 75. 
Independence, functional, 36. 
Individual, 13, 16. 
Individuality, 8, 54. 



Integration, 16, 28. 

Intelligence of secondary state, 

150. 
Intensity, mental, 345; sensory, 

34. 
Introspective scrutiny, 241. 
Involuntary movements, 93, 100. 



Jacksonian epilepsy, 270. 
James, 376. 
Janet's law, 342, 351. 
Judgment, 96. 



Knowledge, 97, 98, 218, 232. 
Kinesthetic sensations, 100, 239. 
Kinesthesis, 301 ; in pathologi- 
cal states, 246, 247, 293. 



Language, 66. 

Lapsed aggregate, 276. 

Lapses of memory, 304. 

Law of evolution, 26; of psychic 
segmentation, 447; of psycho- 
motor life, 245. 

Learning of secondary personal- 
ity, 89, 93, 207, 208. 

Leech, 15. 

Life, psychic, 8, 386; of sensory 
elements, 28. 

Light, 8. 

Limulus polyphemus, 18. 

Loeb, 18. 

Losses of mental content, 78, 88, 
89. 

Lower stages of life, 22. 

Localization, 449. 



Maladies, hysterical, 348. 

Mammalia, 239. 

Maniacal states, 269, 270, 283, 

348. 
Mechanical theory, 314, 315. 
Median-dorsal type, 12. 
Medulla, 238. 
Medusa, 12, 15. 
Melancholia, 270, 285. 
Memory, 64, 149, 196, 202, 213, 

217, 220, 306, 342, 361, 372, 

379. 
Messages, subconscious, 66. 



460 



INDEX 



Metamorphosis of personality, 47, 
83. 

Methods of association, 286 ; of 
guesses, 255; of hypnoidiza- 
tion, 140; of mental strain, 
252 ; of minimal impressions, 
301 ; of physiological stimula- 
tion, 176; of psychic infusion, 
175; of recognition, 174. 

Micro-organisms, 9. 

Mind, 83, 190, 364, 374. 

Minimum of consciousness, 245, 
248, 264; psychic, 248, 271. 

Moment-consciousness, 230, 236, 
240, 251, 253, 257, 264, 266, 
268. 275, 277, 286, 307, 316, 
360, 364, 436, 449, 453, 456. 

Moment-threshold, 272, 274, 279 
280, 282, 283, 285, 292, 301, 
446. 

Monocellular organism, 8, 9, 10. 

Movement, 92, 101 ; of moment, 
253, 256, 257. 

Multiple individuality, 8. 

Muscular sense, 301; system, 181, 
184. 

Names, 149; recollection of, 296. 

Necrotic process, 329. 

Nervous centres, 13, 20; diseases, 

301; system, 10. 
Neural equilibrium, 449. 
Neuron, 52 ; systems, 83. 
Neuropathic states, 329. 
Normal consciousness, 51, 346; 

individual, 18. 
Nucleus, sensory, 28, 232, 236. 

Objects, recognition of, 92. 

Observations of secondary per- 
sonality, 160; of somnambu- 
lism, 261. 

Ontogenesis, 238. 

Organic bondage, 23, 26; evolu- 
tion, 23, 25. 

Organs, 9, 11. 

Organization, law of, 11; neuron, 
52. 

Pain, 226, 253, 293, 336. 
Paramnesia, 46, 256. 
Paranoia, 281. 

Pathological processes, 193, 283, 
301. 



Patten, 18. 

Percept, 28, 236. 

Perceptual moment, 236. 

Pesonality, description of, 78; 
formation of, 58; metamorpho- 
sis, 47. 

Phantasms, 278. 

Pffefer, 274. 

Phylogenesis, 239. 

Picture dreams, 156. 

Poison, action of, 176. 

Polycyclical bimorphosis, 361. 

Polymorphosis, 361, 363. 

Post-hypnotic amnesia, 276. 

Presentative elements, 17, 27, 28. 

Primary presentative elements, 
27, 34. 

Prince, 58, 386. 

Principle of multiple individual- 
ity, 8 ; of stimulation, 85. 

Process of disaggregation, 282; 
of isolation, 29. 

Progress, 25, 26. 

Protozoa, 9. 

Protoplasmic continuity, 10. 

Psychic content, 84, 231; mini- 
mum, 248, 269, 270, 357; 
states, 256, 258. 

Psychic epilepsy, 47, 337, 343, 
356. 

Psychomotor associations, 84 ; 
reactions, 87, 89. 

Psychopathic states, 46, 278, 327, 
329, 348, 356, 379, 427, 443, 
495. 

Quadruple personality, 56. 

Qualitative growth, 16, 22; re- 
lation, 23 ; representation, 352. 

Quality of sensory element, 28; 
of subconscious, 242. 

Quantitative growth, 16, 22; re- 
lation, 23. 

Quasi-individuality, 363 ; person- 
ality, 54, 55. 

Quintuple personality, 56. 

Radiata, 13, 15. 
Radiating stimuli, 275, 285. 
Reaction, 24, 89, 237, 239, 283. 
Recognition, 36, 38, 46, 47, 124, 

125, 141, 143, 176; amnesia of, 

362. 
Recollection, 154. 



INDEX 



461 



Reflex being, 238; consciousness, 

280, 360; sensori-motor, 238, 

294. 
Regions, subconscious, 149, 253, 

310. 
Relations, functional, 25, 33, 38; 

organic, 25. 
Relationship-blood, 23 ; of sen- 
sory elements, 33 ; of personal, 

104; of identity, 194. 
Religion, 119, 130, 131. 
Religious excitement, 436. 
Remembrance, state of, 50. 
Repetition of ganglia, 10, 15 ; of 

organs, 11. 
Representation, 31, 32, 36, 37, 38, 

45. 
Reproduction, cell, 7 ; of amnesia, 

362. 
Reversion, process of, 256, 257, 

263. 
Retentiveness of secondary state, 

140, 184, 441. 
Rhythm, synchronous, 13. 
Ribot, 86. 
Rise of thresholds, 274, 278, 286. 

Secondary consciousness, 161. 

Secondary sensory elements, 28, 
34; groups, 28. 

Segmental type of nervous sys- 
tem, 12, 14, 21, 24. 

Segments of nervous system, 15, 
20, 24. 

Self, 73, 161, 193, 310, 417. 

Self-consciousness, 162, 251, 252, 
306, 357, 447, 453, 454. 

Sense organs, 92, 276. 

Sensation, 31, 93, 273, 352. 

Sensitiveness of secondary state, 
173. 

Sensitivity, 9, 272. 

Sensory elements, 27, 28, 34, 36; 
groups, 28, 30. 

Series of moments, 249. 

Sexual feeling, 125. 

Shell hearing, 257, 328. 

Similarity, association of, 235. 

Siphonophore, 6. 

Sleep, 187, 223, 287, 306. 

Social grouping, 23. 

Somnambulism, 71, 261. 

Space, 92, 93, 100. 

Sphygmograph, 174, 178. 



Spinal cord, 238. 

States, primary and secondary, 
177, 184, 186, 188, 191, 199, 
383. 

Strain, mental, 252. 

Structure of neuron, 8. 

Stimulation, physiological, 176, 
192; minimal, 271, 275, 292. 

Struggle for existence, 245; of 
individualities, 193, 197. 

Subconscious, 149, 151, 155, 160, 
162, 174, 175, 192, 253, 256, 
262, 265, 277, 280, 302, 307, 
310, 319, 322, 328, 329, 335, 
337, 341, 346, 373, 381, 427. 

Subwaking consciousness, 49. 

Suggestibility, 348. 

Suggestion, 73, 74, 259, 266, 268, 
321, 363, 403, 411, 433. 

Suicidal impulses, 267. 

Summation of stimuli, 164, 246, 
293. 

Symbols, 25. 

Symbolic hallucinations, 260, 319. 

Synthesis, mental, 86, 232, 235, 
270, 307, 364, 382, 452, 454. 

Synchronous action, 13. 

Syncytium, 10. 

Systems of cells, 10; dissociated, 
84, 358; mental, 76, 79, 83, 
238, 454; neuron, 13, 21, 33, 
52; of sensory compounds, 28, 
44. 

Systemic structure, 4. 

Tabes, 301. 

Teleological view, 245. 
Threshold moment, 269, 272, 274, 

278, 282, 284, 286, 287, 288, 

292, 301. 
Time, flow of, 93. 
Toxic stimuli, 76. 
Tracings, 187. 

Tracts of consciousness, 76. 
Trains of memories, 76. 
Traits of maniacal states, 283 ; 

of subconsciousness, 78, 374. 
Trance, 72, 301, 302. 
Type of individuality, 231; of 

moment, 240, 246, 279; of 

nervous system, 12, 13. 
Uncontrollable impulses, 266. 
Unconscious states, 55, 99, 181, 

331, 451, 456. 



462 



INDEX 



Unicellular organisms, 7. 

Units, psychic, 52, 361; of stim- 
ulation, 273. 

Unity of moment consciousness, 
27 ; organic, 233. 

Upper consciousness, 151, 256, 
267, 280, 328, 345, 346, 373. 

Variation of sensory elements, 
28. 

Visceral, nervous system, 14 ; sen- 
sibility, 341, 342, 350, 351. 

Vision, 72, 158, 221, 310. 

Visual hallucination, 269, 309, 
319. 

Vivid dreams, 138, 140, 156. 



Vividness, 34, 38, 39, 43, 251, 292, 

344. 
Voices, 258, 259, 292. 
Vocabulary, 97, 369, 420. 
Voluntary adaptation, 101, 107. 

Waking consciousness, 49, 188, 

310. 
Walking activity, 244. 
Weber's law, 274. 
Weir Mitchell, 79. 
Whitman, 20. 
Words, abstract, 98. 

Zero point of sensation, 273. 
Zone, subconscious, 256. 



(1) 



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